


The Waning Crypt

by EvanHarr98



Series: The Waning Crypt [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Dark Fantasy, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 56,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanHarr98/pseuds/EvanHarr98
Summary: In small towns there are legends, myths and even curses. Townsfolk perform rituals that they think may protect them from what lurks in the darkness. Grian has always been fond of the dark legends that the Dartmoor town, Chagford hold. While his day job permits him to write articles for the Hermiton Herald, he enjoys solving true crimes, the thrill of the chase had always been calling for him, since the young days of his childhood.What happens when he reaches forth and clasps at the devlish opportunity that a dark looming figure offers?(This story is a work of my own fiction, I have built the universe myself. Chagford is a real town, although the legends that I am writing and the buildings/OC's that I'll be referencing are my own design. This story contains shipping, although I do not ship the actual people, only the Minecraft personas. This story will also have gore and a bit of smut, I will post warnings on those specific chapters, so please be careful when reading and if you might be triggered while reading this story, then please seek help from a professional or trusted person. Stay safe!)
Relationships: Grian/Mumbo Jumbo
Series: The Waning Crypt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080500
Comments: 176
Kudos: 204





	1. Over A Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Evan hasn't posted in a while... Hmm... He must be up to something... 
> 
> If that thought has crossed your mind, then you're right! I was up to something. I've been planning and plotting this story for a good few days now and I finally feel up to writing it. 
> 
> But, Ev, what about the other multichapter stories?
> 
> I know :-/ I am still writing those stories, please don't worry, they will get finished but I just wanted to get this written and posted. I hope you all like it :D
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for clicking on the story and I hope to be posting regularly for this one. Spirals of Want and Desire is also due for an update soon, we are working on it and there should be a new chapter out ~ soon-ish ~ I can't give a specific amount of time, other than it will be posted soon :D
> 
> So, in this chapter, there is no sexual content or graphic violence, but as I normally do, I'll be posting warnings at the start of each new chapter :D
> 
> So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy this chapter, stay safe and happy reading!!

Orange streams of light pillared through the windows of Grian’s apartment as they dazzled across the carpets and the well-furnished space, their beams illuminated the room and cast away the shadows that lingered in the corners of the place, looming over the furniture like a dark veil.

Echoing through the flat, soft musical tones sounded from a speaker, it was accompanied by the clanging of feet against laminate flooring as Grian danced along with the melodic tune. 

“Simply the best! Better than all the rest!” He howled the lyrics of the Tina Turner song, his voice cracked and squeaked with the strain and he almost didn’t hear the chiming of his phone as a new text rang through.

His mouth clamped shut as his eyes searched over his living area, scouring the place for the mobile device. “Hey Google, pause.” He ordered the AI. “Hey Google, call my phone.”

“Calling ‘Grian’s iPhone.’” The monotonal robotic voice chimed from the speaker and within seconds his ringtone shouted out the default apple ringer as the percussion instrument sang it’s ariose tones.

“Aha!” The blond called as his tanned fingers clasped around the device, a beaming smile was reflected at him through the dark screen and as he unlocked the phone, the ringing stopped. 

His fingers tapped against the glass as he opened the messenger app.

_ Received: 02.08.2020 - 13:02 _

_ Ren - Hi Gri, I haven't spoke to you in a while, I was wondering if you’d be up for coming up to visit me this weekend? I’d love to see you.  _

A warmth spread through his chest as his eyes flicked over the letters of his cousin's text. Almost instantly he tapped on the space to reply. As his fingers twitched across the crystal screen, the speakers clicked with the replicated sounds of a typewriter, as if it were a parrot that’d heard the noise from somewhere.

_ Sent: 02.08.2020 - 13:03 _

_ Grian: Hiya! I’d love that. I can catch the train Friday night? _

Grian smiled as he moved to set the phone down on the sofa. As his arm extended, however, the device came to life with a chime as it vibrated against his palm. 

_ Received: 02.08.2020 - 13:04 _

_ Ren: Sounds good, my dude! But, remember you’re coming to visit  _ me _ , not chase down those bloody legends. _

_ Sent: 02.08.2020 - 13:05 _

_ Grian: You sound so needy XD don’t worry, I won’t run off, not unless that tall ponce comes down from his castle! Then I’ll have to abandon you! _

_ Received: 02.08.2020 - 13:06 _

_ Ren: Not funny. Don’t talk to him. Seriously Grian, he’s a dangerous guy, everyone in the town is scared of him and for good reason!  _

_ Sent: 02.08.2020 - 13:10 _

_ Grian: You’re so predictable, I won’t speak to him. Not unless he speaks to me first ;D _

* * *

The faint stench of liquor billowed out of the dingy establishment, it was as if the creaking wooden shell of the tavern had been drenched with hundreds of years worth of ale and whisky. 

Grey tinted against the dark stained wood as age slowly crept through the grain. Grian’s eyes roved over the building as he stared at it, the overcast sky only seemed to add to the decrepit appearance of the place as the sun begged to be freed from the oppressive clouds.

Like a whisper of warning, a chill autumn breeze billowed about his body and tickled its fingers between the layers of his clothes. The blond hugged his jumper closer to his torso as he shivered in the waning attention of the cool air.

Like a light peering through the fog, his sweater was a beacon of colour in a town that had been deprived of such brightness. Its red threads glowed brightly in the pale shades of grey. As he traipsed ever closer - his shoes splashing in the mud-caked puddles - he could hardly ignore the dreary monochromes that tased his eyes.

He paused just shy of twelve inches away from the door, his hand stilled where it reached out to touch the wood as his breath caught in his throat, the words of his cousin rang through his mind.

_ Don’t talk to him, he’s dangerous. _

Grian’s jaw clenched against the memory as his eyes slipped closed, he shook the thought from his mind and gave a steely huff of breath, the steam cloud billowed from between his lips before it hovered at his face for a moment and dispersed to invisible droplets.

_ He can’t be that bad? _

_ He’s just a man, what harm can it do to speak with him? _

The thought lingered in his mind as he finally reached forward and bridged the gap, he pressed his palm flat against the oak. The damp wood stung like a winter-nights kiss as he pressed against the door and let himself inside, his brow drew close and creased the skin of his forehead as his vision adjusted to the stark contrast of light levels in the building.

A golden haze bathed the place as a fire roared in the far corner, hardwood flooring creaked and moaned it’s disgust and withering pain as patrons and servers stomped over it. 

Cerulean irises scanned the place, like a cyan laser pointer, his gaze focused on one man in particular. His eyes narrowed on his subject and with each step that brought him closer to the man a flurry of butterflies flew loose in his belly as a knot of tension coiled within his chest. His jaw tightened and clenched as he drew nearer.

“Ah, Mr Charleston. Pleasure to meet you, finally.” The words slithered from between the man’s lips like a thick double cream drizzled over a steaming slice of apple pie. The deep treacle tones shot electricity through Grian and he stilled instantly, a deer caught in the headlights, he couldn’t bring himself to shift from his place just behind the man.

Grian’s mind reeled with a flurry of confusion as he stared at the crown of the man’s raven head.  _ How did he know it was me? _ The thought flickered through his brain and it was then that he realised that that wasn’t the most disconcerting part of the entire situation. A final question loomed at his furrowed brow.  _ How does he know my name? _

He grit his teeth as he pushed away the panicked thoughts and gave a shaking bolstering sigh. 

“H-Hello Mr Jumbo. I -” 

“Please sit. I should think you’re tired of standing.” 

Mr Jumbo interrupted Grian’s words. The blond’s voice died in his throat as he moved to comply with the man’s request. He stepped forward and slipped into the chair opposite the tall pale figure. 

The two were isolated from the rest of the bar as they occupied the only cushioned booth that the establishment had to offer, worn leather chairs supported their backs while a polished and well-used table stood between them, years of dining and drinking had worn rings and long trenches into the warped wood.

Grian swallowed passed his dry throat as he rested his hands on the tabletop, his eyes flicking over the man’s features. Mr Jumbo was the typical depiction of aristocracy, his long pale nose was a prominent feature on his face and it was underlined by a strip of raven hair as his curled moustache sat atop his pink lips. 

Distantly, Grian couldn’t help himself as he thought of the KFC colonel, a smirk twisted in his features but was quickly wiped away as the man sat forward and mirrored Grian’s relaxed pose, he placed his own slender hands on the table as a thin smile twisted across his features. 

“I wish I’d had the pleasure of welcoming you to Chagford myself, but unfortunately I was indisposed elsewhere. It’s not often that we get visitors here.” The slick words seemed to perform pirouettes as they slunk from between Mr Jumbo’s strangely shaped white teeth. 

Grian’s eyes were fixed to them, his gaze traced along the sharpened lines, it almost appeared that Mr Jumbo had filed them to fang-like daggers himself. 

“No, don’t worry about it. My cousin has given me a good welcome. But in truth, I’m not much of a visitor but a past resident.” 

“Ren, is it?” 

At the sound of his cousin’s name, Grian’s brow twitched and his eyes widened a fragment, he could feel the cool dregs of icy fear curling around the base of his neck as it twisted and plucked at his spinal cord.

“Yes, but how did you - ?” Before he could finish his question, Mr Jumbo had already begun talking once more.

“Ren.” Mr Jumbo’s lips twitched as he uttered the word in a way that made him appear to reminisce, as if he knew Grian’s cousin on a personal level. The man gave a snicker that sounded far too cruel to be endearing before he continued to speak. 

“You know, the townsfolk call him ‘Hound’. I don’t fully understand the nickname myself, but I can appreciate the fondness in which it’s used.” Mr Jumbo’s finger traced the rim of his tumbler, Grian’s eyes remained transfixed on the serene movement that he’d almost forgotten that the man was talking. 

“But don’t worry, I haven’t been spying on you.” Mr Jumbo chuckled, snatching Grian’s attention once more. “A town like this is so small that word travels fast. I’m sure you’re enjoying your stay.” 

Mr Jumbo nodded with his words as his eyes flicked up to connect with Grian’s, at the contact, the blond almost recoiled and ran away from the table, the force of those eyes, that attention trained on him was enough to make his blood clot. 

He swallowed the fear that trembled against his diaphragm and forced a shaky smile in response, deigning the man’s words with a soft nod of agreement. 

“However, I must wonder,” The aristocrat reclined in his chair as his gaze flicked up to the ceiling thoughtfully. “As a tourist, this is hardly the kind of establishment that someone like yourself would frequent.” His brow furrowed at his own words as a perplexed expression glassed across his eyes.

Grian’s brow knitted close together at the statement and as he opened his mouth to argue, Mr Jumbo continued. “Now, please forgive me. I’m not claiming or insinuating that you are lesser or more than the patrons of this quaint tavern, but it still brings into question,  _ why  _ are you here? Pray tell, Mr Charleston.”

The blond cleared his throat, it was as if a kernel of popcorn had been lodged in his gullet, he gave a small cough before he replied. “Please, call me Grian.” He paused for a moment as he considered what he could say in response to the question.

  
  


He could lie, could say that he’d wandered inside on a whim, wanting to relive a past memory. Or that he wanted to gather the feel of the townsfolk before traversing the moors? But no, Grian knew all too well that this man would peer straight through his falsehood, would cut a slithering hole straight through the veil and peer into the truth. He gave a frustrated huff as he resigned to his only option. Grian had to tell the truth.

He let his eyes close for a moment as he rallied all the confidence and energetic eccentricities that had landed him in this situation before he finally connected his gaze to the man’s and spoke. “I came to talk to you, Mr Jumbo.”

“Me?” He seemed shocked by the statement as he lifted his drink and took a sip, his eyes widened a fragment as his thoughts settled on the revelation. 

“And please, if we are to be on a first-name basis, then I’d prompt you to call me Mumbo. Now, why would  _ you  _ want to speak with  _ me _ ?” His voice trailed off as he let himself dabble in suspicions and thoughtful theories before his fingers steepled below his chin and a small smile curled across his mouth.

“I gather you fancy yourself a hobbyist detective when you’re not writing for the Hicklesby Herald.”

“Mr J -” Grian paused as the man’s brow descended and cast a shadow over his viridescent eyes, staining them an almost greyish-emerald. He gave an appeasing smile before continuing. “ _ Mumbo _ . I wanted to ask you about the legends of the town.”

“The legends?” A smirk curled around Mumbo’s lips as he considered Grian’s question, a swamping mass of moths flapped against the blond’s bony rib cage and he sat forward, trying with all his might to tamp down on the anxiety that this aristocratic man provoked.

“Why yes, I am - as you’d expect - aware of the legends that the town whispers at night, although I…” He paused and took a sip of his drink, hiding his amusement. “I should say that I don’t think I could elaborate on what you’ve already heard.”

“No, not elaborate, I want to hear your take on them.” Grian interjected, his brow furrowed in an almost panic. He’d come so close, too far to not hear what the man had to say. He leaned closer, expression almost pleading as he silently urged the man to express his thoughts.

“My take? Whatever do you mean?”

Grian rested back against the leather behind him as his hands waved with his words. “Well, with legends and myths, they’re almost like stories, they’re up for interpretation. I wanted to know what you thought about them.”

“No.” Mumbo’s short answer trampled across Grian like a locomotive, like the very train that he’d rode to get to the dingy town that Ren called home.

The short and rather blunt response shook the blond and a shrill shiver trembled through his spine and down to his heels as he stiffened at Mumbo’s deep, stern voice. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to stir up a raucous within the town, so I think I’d rather depart. It has been nice speaking with you Grian, I wish you well for the rest of your visit and I do hope you walk away with what you wanted to find.” As he spoke, Mumbo shrugged into his long thick trench coat and straightened his red tie that hung from his neck. He gave a short tip of his head before he backed away from the table, leaving Grian alone in the booth.

As the man receded into the shadows of the bar, he took the chill with him and suddenly Grian could feel the heat fanning from the flames that flickered in the fireplace and the warmth of the dozen bodies that filled the tavern's walls. His shoulders slumped low as he let out a breath that he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

“Oh but Grian.” Within an instant, the icy, stagnant air was back and the blond stiffened in where he sat. His eyes flicked up to the man and it was from this angle that he could ascertain the height of him. Mumbo stood almost a foot and a half taller than Grian and as the aristocrat leaned closer, he seemed to use every inch to his benefit. Grian plastered a fake smile, trying with all his might to hide the surprise that still lingered in his sternum.

“Y-Yes?” He replied, cheeks heating at his accidental stutter.

“If you are willing, I’d be happy to open my extensive collection of books to you, I have many written recounts of the events in which those legends are based off, maybe you’d like to glance over them sometime?” Cerulean irises peaked up through his blond fringe as Grian watched the man. 

Mumbo’s pale face seemed shadowed as he craned his neck down to peer at the blond, it was almost ominous as if someone had held a torch artistically beneath their chin at a campfire. Grian swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as he gave a small nod.

His gaze remained on the taller of the two as he watched him carefully, a small smirk dashed across Mumbo’s lips, although as Grian continued to observe the man, he couldn’t help the feeling that he’d just signed a contract that he hadn’t read thoroughly enough, as if he’d just signed away something so precious, so immense that he could never hope to begin to quantify it. 

“Although, if you wish to do so, you will have to stay in my manor for a term of…” Mumbo’s head twitched to the side, in a caricature of thinking. The entire facade seemed so odd, so unnatural that Grian almost felt he had no choice but to backtrack for he may stand the risk of being found in a ditch somewhere if he spent any longer in the aristocrat’s presence. “Shall we say… Half a dozen months? Would you be averse to that?”

“Averse? No.” Grian lied, the reply was spat so quickly from his lips that he almost wished he could backtrack, that he could pinch his acceptance from the air and swallow his words. Six months with this man seemed risky, spending another moment in his presence seemed dangerous enough never mind longer than just one day. 

But what would be expected of Grian? Would he be asked to spend time with Mumbo? If that were the case, what would they speak about? Would their interactions be anything more than a strangely ominous and rather frightening encounter? 

The unanswered questions were terrifying but altogether intriguing. It may have been dangerous, but Grian could hardly extinguish the fire of fascination as he watched the man’s mouth curl into a smirk, not unlike that of the Grinch who stole Christmas. 

“Good.” Mumbo hummed, although the sound came out as more of a growling purr as his cadence dropped to something barely above a croaky vibration. “Any questions?” His raven brow arched primly on his pale forehead as he awaited for Grian to answer.

The blond swallowed around his swollen tongue as he gave another shaking nod. “Is that a baker's dozen?” His voice was almost squeaky as he asked it, the tone of his voice two octaves too high. The tension that still resonated through his chest was quite obvious in his words.

At his question, the taller man’s head fell back and a barrel of laughter escaped the confines of his chest. “Oh, how amusing. No, six months in my estate and you will have access to the library at all hours. Do you accept?”

“Yes.” Although that was the word that left the blond’s mouth, his mind screamed the opposite. It seemed that with each mental refusal, he gave a verbal acceptance. 

A cruel smile spread across Mumbo’s face as he watched him, he extended a slender hand. Grian stared at the proffered appendage for a moment, while he didn’t expect anything different, he couldn’t keep from noticing how well-manicured Mumbo’s hands were. 

They seemed unblemished, unmarred from calluses and while his fingernails were long and sharp they were also perfectly well kept. Grian gave one last glance up to the man before he wrapped his fingers around Mumbo’s and shook it. 

As their skin met, Grian had to force himself not to recoil as a chilling icy feel climbed up his forearm and settled in his shoulder, rendering it almost numb. 

He hissed quietly at the sensation before he let out a breath of relief at being released from the man’s hold. “I shall send for my friend to come and collect you.” Mumbo hummed as he tipped his head once more. “Farewell, Grian.” He chimed. “For now.”

The blond gave a frantic smile of his own as he bid the man a fleeting goodbye, Mumbo didn’t walk away as one would expect someone to, he almost floated, slunk like a cat, so sly. Grian leant out of his seat as he watched him leave, determined not to be startled by his slimy presence again. 

Like a serpent, Mumbo slithered through the crowded establishment, his coat swayed behind him as he dodged through the gaps between servers and patrons before he finally reached for the door, although just as his fingers wrapped around the handle, it opened from the other side. Grian held his breath as a familiar man traipsed through and over the threshold.

“Ah, Ren. Good day.” Mumbo chimed too cheerfully, as if he had practised the greeting in the mirror several times over. 

At the greeting, Ren’s brow furrowed deeply as he recoiled back from the man and remained silent. Mumbo didn’t wait for his reply as he slipped by him and out the door. 

Grian watched as his cousin’s face screwed up in confusion before he stepped further into the tavern and it was then that the reason for his appearance became clear to Grian as his silver eyes locked onto him and heavy footsteps collided against the wincing floorboards.

Grian dipped his head and fiddled with his own fingers as he pretended to appear distracted and natural, although he knew Ren would be able to see past the facade. Two large hands slammed against the table and Grian flinched in surprise, almost jumping out of his seat. 

“Grian.” His cool voice cut through the blond. 

“Yes?” He replied as he sheepishly peered through his lashes.

“Were you speaking to Mumbo Jumbo?”

Like a child, Grian had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and he knew it. He squirmed in his seat as a blush rose through his cheeks. His brow furrowed as he moved to shake his head, although the sight of the stern expression that creased through Ren’s features seemed to tweak at some part of him as Grian thought better of lying and ducked his head. 

“Yes.” He spoke his meek response.

“What did I tell you?” The man’s exasperation was obvious as he sat down with a huff, taking the seat that Mumbo had vacated. Grian chanced a glance up at his cousin and grimaced at the disappointed expression that he found there. 

“I - I… Ren, come on. You know how much I need this for my research.” Grian muttered pleadingly before he continued to devolve into his rambling excuses. “Plus, you should know me by now! If you say don’t push that button, what do I do?”

“Push it.” Ren sighed with a roll of his eyes. “But this is a button you shouldn’t have pressed, it’s dangerous.” He hissed.

“Why? Because of legends? Because of myths? Because the other people in the town say so?” Grian challenged the man with a raised brow as he spat out his argument. 

Ren’s head fell into his palms as he scraped his hands over his face, it was as if he was rubbing the strength to deal with the challenge into his skin, as one would do with a steroid cream.

“No. Not because of-- Well, not  _ entirely  _ because of that…” Ren gave a frustrated huff. “You can’t talk to him anymore.”

“Too late.”

“What?” Ren spat out the word, his voice broke with the force of it.

“I’ve been invited to live with him for six months.”

“Grian, no you can’t - It’s da-”

The blond held up a finger as his own expression turned stern. His eyes narrowed on his cousin. “No, Ren. If you say that it’s dangerous one more time, I swear to god I’ll walk away. You’ve been telling me about the legends of this town since we were children and you know I’ve always wanted to know more about them. I have to do this.” As he said the last sentence, his finger poked against the table in a rhythmic tap, punctuating his words.

Ren was quiet for a long time and for a moment Grian was almost certain the man was going to silently leave him there in the tavern, until he answered him and when he did, he sounded sombre, almost mournful. 

“You don’t have to do this, Gri. You --” He paused as the words died in his throat. His eyes flicked over Grian's face before his head dipped between his shoulders as if giving way to a weight that had been deposited upon him. He gave a withering sigh. “Okay, look. You need to text me if anything strange happens and I’ll come for you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Grian answered with a bright grin of excitement. It must have been contagious because within seconds a mirrored smile spread across Ren’s lips. “You know you love me.” Grian muttered the sentence teasingly, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Unfortunately.” Ren huffed out with a roll of his eyes. “Now buy me a drink. I deserve one for dealing with you.”

  
  



	2. Serpent Eyes Befell The Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, and here is an update for you all, I hope you like it and enjoy it as much as I did writing it. This chapter is short, but very much needed. 
> 
> The next few chapters will be a little slow and not actioned filled, but I hope you all enjoy them either way. I still intend to update regularly and will let you all know if that changes (I doubt it will)
> 
> This chapter contains no content warnings, we're all safe here. 
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, stay safe and happy reading!

Peeping eyes of white daylight streamed through the gap of the thin cloth curtains, the sheets of mothy grey dangled from their pole over the panes that stood like lenses from the sill. 

It was like a bath of purity that washed about the room, it splashed against the walls and swished against Grian as he neatly folded his clothes in the large leather suitcase that rested open on the bed spread. 

His fingers brushed against the smooth, almost silky cotton of his clothes as he laid them down in a pile, two square short columns of clothing stood from the floor of the case, he dragged the tips of his digits across the very top article.

Pale skin carried on for days, spread delicately over ornate bones, a splash of raven off set the almost snowy appearance that caught his eye. Piercing emeralds stared at him from under serene brows and a spiral of black hung over two cherry strips.

“He’s downstairs.”

Grian’s hand snapped back to his side as he took in a sharp breath, a flash of heat coloured the skin atop his cheekbones as Ren tugged him harshly from his reverie. The blond’s eyes fell shut as he huffed out a gentle puff. “Who? Mumbo?”

“So you’re calling him by his first name now? You became friends quickly.” The playful teasing didn’t fly under Grian’s radar as he narrowed a glare at his cousin, Grian stood straighter.

“No. We’re not friends.” He snapped as he closed the case and latched it shut with the metal clasps at it’s lip. “He asked me to call him that.”

Ren’s hands flew up between them in a placating gesture as the taller man stepped closer to the smaller. “Hey, it’s okay, I was only joking.” He soothed, eyes drawn on the blond, his brows furrowed as he watched him.

Stuck under Ren’s gaze, Grian felt as though he were a bug under a magnifying glass, he shied away from the harsh light that threatened to burn his skin. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” He replied as he tugged at the handle and drew the case closer to his side. “Who’s here?”

“A guy, he says that he’s friends with Mumbo.” The emphasis on the name wasn’t lost on Grian, but the shorter man merely huffed in response to the jibe as he gave a swift jerking nod and shifted past his cousin. 

“He said that he’d send a friend.” He confirmed, although his voice could barely be heard over the slipping of his heels against the wooden stairs that led down to the living room. 

Ren’s home was a quaint wooden cottage, brown spruce and lacy doilies were a common feature that spread themselves far and wide across the cottage, as if they were spots on a dalmatian. 

Stood in the centre of the room was a man, he stood barely half a foot taller than Grian himself, his hair was a mousy brown and it descended down his cheeks and to a shortly trimmed beard that roamed across his face and around his lips. A blue tinted monocle glassed across his left eye.

Grian’s eyes trailed across the man and while he was slightly anxious to be greeted with the prospect of sharing residence with a man he’d just formally met, he could hardly hide his surprise at the stark difference between this man and Mumbo himself.

While the tall pale aristocrat donned a suit almost everywhere he went, this man - who was only known as Mumbo’s friend - wore a lime green hoodie and a dark brown gilet. Together he and Mr Jumbo could have been the co-embodiment of smart casual. 

“Hallo! Mumbo sent me.” As the man spoke, a Swedish accent tainted his words and melded them into a soft spoken English.

“Hi, Mr…” 

Upon realising his mistake, the Swede’s lips tugged in an apologetic smile as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m Iskall.” He held out his hand in offering to the blond.

“Grian.” He replied and shook it steadily. 

“Is that a horse and cart? I haven’t seen one in years.” Ren’s voice interrupted the two as he stepped towards the sitting room window and peered out passed the lacy screen that covered the glass.

Iskall’s eyes shifted their focus from Grian and to the taller man in the corner, he gave a soft laugh. “It’s a carriage.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Iskall nodded his head to the horse drawn vehicle that stood at the curb beside the house. “You called it a cart. It’s a carriage.”

“Ah, I see. Will you be staying with Mr Jumbo and Gri?” 

“No. I won’t, but I do live on the grounds of the estate, so I’ll be nearby.”

“See to it that you are.”

“Ren!” Grian’s eyes widened at the harsh tones that his cousin spat towards the brunette, although his comment was ignored as Ren tugged a note of money from his wallet and tucked it in the breast pocket of Iskall’s gilet.

Iskall stared down to where the money disappeared behind fabric and cloth as his brows furrowed a fraction. “Sir, I can’t take your money, I --” 

“Just keep an eye on him.” Ren interrupted him. “Please.” Iskall glanced between his pocket and Ren and for a moment, silence spread between the three of them. Grian was almost certain that the Swede would keep the bribe and he wasn’t certain as to whom he was more disgusted with. His chest constricted with the weight of two elephants as he watched the exchange. 

He may have been young, younger than Ren anyway, but that didn’t give him the right to treat him like a child. His lips thinned to the straight pink line as he prepared to snap at his cousin but before he got the chance, Iskall stepped forward and entered Ren’s personal space, his chin jutted out and Grian flinched back in preparation for violence.

“Sir. Mumbo Jumbo is a great man. He is my friend. I can promise you that your cousin will be safe.” He snarled as he slipped the money from his pocket and crushed it against Ren’s chest. “Do not bother me with your cruel insinuations, a slur to Mr Jumbo is an insult to  _ me _ .” 

It was as if the room had fallen pregnant with the heavy silence, it stuck to the walls and slid across the paintings in it’s slimy disgusting dew. Grian felt himself weighted down by the tension that had built up between the two and quite frankly he’d had enough. His jaw clenched as his teeth ground together.

“Would you like help with your case?” 

A dark void had swallowed Grian’s stomach. As Iskall spoke, his voice deepened to that of a bass drum, his eyes had hollowed to almost pure black and if it wasn’t for his blue monocle, his entire brow would have sat atop a blindfold of shadows. 

The light hearted question appeared to arise from nowhere. Grian’s eyes fluttered as he was snapped back to reality. The room was just as before, except now Ren’s usually tanned face was pale with a thin mask of nervous sweat that reflected the light from his forehead. 

Grian wanted to reach forward and comfort his cousin, but a hand tugged at an invisible cord that was latched to his spine and he stilled, stuck in place. He stared at Ren, unable to pull his eyes away from the man, his vision was narrowed and pinpointed on his almost trembling form.

“Sir?” 

His stomach dropped to a cavernous pit and Grian was almost certain that he would never climb back from such a plummet. Iskall was right beside him, his brows drawn and furrowed as his eyes narrowed on the smaller. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” The blond asked, his mouth dry.

“Would you like help with your case?” 

Grian glanced down at the suitcase that hung from his grip, he’d forgotten about it. He shook his head silently as he swallowed the lump that’d formed in his throat and tugged his lips into a facade of a grateful smile. “No, thank you though.” He jerked his head in a soft nod of thanks.

The bearded man’s gaze remained trained on him for the longest time and Grian was half afraid to move an inch or else he would seize him, like a snake to a mouse. 

“Fine then.” Iskall muttered abruptly, the same wide grin from before was back. “I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes and wait in the carriage.” Grian nodded in response before he watched the man glance to Ren once more and finally recede from the room and out the front door.

“That’s who you’re letting into your life. Those people --”

“Are finally giving me answers.” Grian snapped, his eyes sharp and flashing with a warning. He stepped towards his cousin and stared up at him, although he was smaller than Ren, he mustered all of his courage and dominance as he took hold of each inch of his height to tower over the man, if not in reality then in spirit. It worked. The taller stepped away, brows drawn up with concern.

“You shouldn’t have said what you did. It was rude, uncalled for and…” The blond paused as he thought, but as no words flashed to the forefront of his mind, his mouth snapped shut and he shook his head. A helpless smirk teased at the corners of his lips. “You know what? I’ll talk to you later.” He muttered finally as he tugged his case closer to himself and stepped away from the man he’d once thought he knew. 

* * *

Like graphite, the carriage was coated with a shining black paint that shimmered under the light of the waning sun. Red curtains hung from their hooks as they draped over the window that sat on either side of the passengers’ area.

A soft orange hue bathed the inside of the carriage and lit the two men in the backdrop of the sunset. Leather seats faced each other and while Grian took the one that stood at the far back, opposite him, Iskall rested on the seats that were fixed directly before the face of the cart. 

The rickety, thin wooden wheels rolled under the vehicle and the soft plodding of hooves performed the bass tones that underlined their travels.

“How did you meet him?” 

Iskall’s voice broke the silence that had followed the two men from Ren’s home to now. Grian’s eyes widened as he was startled back to the present moment and it took him a few seconds of thought to realise that he was being asked about his relation to Mumbo. He swallowed past his dry tongue.

“I met him in a bar.” He croaked. Iskall nodded as he stroked his beard absentmindedly. 

“The Ham and Stake?”

“Yeah, the tavern.”

The brunette hummed at that before the two devolved back into the tension-filled quiet that seemed to fill each empty crevice with its invisible, hulking mass. 

* * *

“We’re here.” 

Iskall’s voice was accompanied by a soft neighing from the horses as the carriage jolted to a stop. Grian glanced about himself before he finally peered out past the curtain, removing a slither with his finger, he peeked through the gap and his jaw dropped at the sight that befell him. 

Grassy plains dazzled his view and stretched their emerald blades far and wide. At one edge of the estate was a forest, three small huts littered the area and stood like crooked tombstones. 

Opposite the little huts was a large mansion, windows dotted the walls like a thousand eyes while topiary stood like a leafy army in the gardens. Grian could hardly tear his gaze away and it wasn’t until Iskall brushed passed him and pushed the door open that he was forced from his trance. 

“I-I’m staying there?” His voice was small and quiet, akin to a child filled with wonder. Iskall watched him for a moment, perplexed by the question, he gave a soft smile and a nod of his head. 

“With Mumbo.” The man added.

Those two words were the only reminder Grian needed. It was as if his heart was powered by a jack hammer, because it thumped a tattoo to the inside of his ribcage. He was stuck, frozen in time and for a moment, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to leave his seat. 

“Hello, Grian.” A familiar voice broke through his shocked stupor and his fear shattered like a cracking statue, he heard it rupture in his ears, he glanced to where the sound had come from.

Stood before his home, Mumbo smiled warmly. His pink lips were pulled into a tight welcoming smile and he donned the same suit he had worn when the two had first met, although this time, he held a staff. It was a long black pole and under Mumbo’s palm was a silver hound’s head, the metal canine jutted forward in a frozen position of snarling. 

“Hello Mumbo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's this time again, the end of the chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it. Did you notice the little added hint as to what may be to come? If not, don't worry :D I'm sure you'll understand in due course :D
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D
> 
> I'll see you all soon :D


	3. Peritissimus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Here is another chapter, it's short again :-/ There is something interesting coming up, I promise, I'm just setting the scene :D I hope you all enjoy this slow build-up though. I originally thought of shoving all these shorter chapters together into one big long one, but I think it all may overwhelm you, so I'm giving you bite-sized chunks :D
> 
> This chapter has no content warnings to be aware of.
> 
> Please stay safe and happy reading :D

Golden tendrils slithered through the trees and glinted off the silver handle that topped Mumbo’s staff, it shimmered and danced with each of his movements. 

Grian watched the man from his place just before the carriage. His feet may well have been stuck to the ground as he couldn’t move for the awe that struck him as he watched the man. 

“My servant will take your bags.” Mumbo’s voice poured from between his pale lips as if it were a trickle of heated tar, it oozed out and dripped in the space between them and for a moment, Grian wanted nothing more than to lap up the sound and bathe in its sticky glory.

“In the meantime, would you care for a tour?” 

Still locked onto that mouth, the blond hadn’t heard the question and it wasn’t until Mumbo gave an amused clearing of his throat that Grian was shocked back to reality. “W-What?” He uttered cumbersomely, cursing himself for his bluster.

Mumbo’s eyes slipped closed as he bowed his head, concealing a smirk. “I said, would you care for a tour. With me?” 

“Yes. Yes please.” The blond spoke without a second thought, his tongue hanging onto the very notion of being with the taller man for any length of time. His heart hammered in his throat as a wave of excitement thrummed through his body. 

Grian wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he’d been warned away from Mumbo for so long or if it was the thrill of being the centre of the man’s attention. Either way, Grian wasn’t about to question it. 

He glanced down at his feet and stared at where they were surrounded by pure white stones before he finally moved forward and took his place beside the aristocrat. He watched as the raven-haired man inclined his head in a nod before sidestepping and making room for Grian to follow.

It was as if his chest was two sizes too small for his organs as they pressed almost painfully against the ribs that wrapped around his torso. Grian wasn’t sure if he could breathe properly, he felt as though he was wearing a corset. A bead of sweat poked at his brow and sheened in the light.

The pebbles below their feet crunched and ground together under their collective weight as they meandered across the grounds. Mumbo had already shouted back a word of thanks to both the driver of the carriage and Iskall, the vehicle left not too long afterwards, both removing themselves from Mumbo and Grian’s presence without a second word. 

“My Great Grandfather had this estate built in his wife’s honour, being obsessed with the gothic architecture of the time, he had little hints added to its structure.” Mumbo spoke clearly and thoughtfully, the blond hung on the end of his every word, it was as if he were listening to a story that’d been written and read solely for him. 

Mumbo gave a sweeping gesture with his hand as he outlined the large building that was the centre of the estate. 

It’s large sandstone walls stood tall, they loomed over the grounds that surrounded them, windows dotted across them like morse code and Grian was almost certain that their blackened eyes were a clue for something. But what? He didn’t know where to begin unravelling for those answers. 

His brow furrowed in concentration as his gaze roved over that large palace that Mumbo called home, from the rounded cylinder-like column that stood to the right of the main entrance and to the spanning red leaves of the ivy clambered across a straight canvas of a wall. 

“Magnificent, is it not?” Mumbo’s absent-minded comment brought Grian back and at once he was astounded at how ordinary this view was for the taller man. The blond watched the other for a moment and it was then that he realised how such a sight could seem rather average.

Mumbo was, in a word, beautiful. His glassy, viridescent eyes shimmered with a life that the windows of the estate didn’t, his hair had gel brushed into its strands and it seemed almost flawless as it reflected the dull light of the setting sun, behind them. His skin almost glowed with his paleness and the lack of colour only enhanced the dark glory that was his raven locks. 

Grian himself was rather ordinary, stood in his vibrant jumper and blue jeans. Where Mumbo only wore a red tie, he had no other colours bursting from his wardrobe, he wore silky blacks and pearly whites. The blond huffed out in defeat as he understood just how dull of a person he was, to such an extent that he had to overcompensate with interesting clothing choices. 

His mouth skewed as he gave a silent nod. For a brief moment, he was sure that he saw a fleeting expression of concern flash across Mumbo’s face, but as soon as he caught a glimpse, the cool stoic mask was back in place. 

“Indeed. Well, the gardens are just as romantic, there are flower beds over in the east of the estate and a whole catalogue of hedge mazes to the west, although please tread carefully, there have been a number of employees who’ve gotten lost in those mazes.” The taller man’s voice came to a dwindling halt as his mind hummed with thoughts.

Grian watched him think. His eyes traced over Mumbo’s narrowed pupils, drawn together with a string of images that appeared to flash through the taller’s mind, a part of Grian wanted to take a peek and see them for himself, he gave a sigh as he settled for absorbing the perplexion that still lingered across the raven-haired man’s expression. 

“Come to think of it, I’m not sure if we managed to recover the entirety of them.” The statement held such connotations, it hung heavy between them. Grian was certain he’d be dragged down by the weight of such an admittance. His eyes widened before amusement coloured his face. 

Mumbo seemed pleased at the small hint of a smile that grazed his lips, because in an instant he gave a sardonic wink before he continued his walking, pulling himself along with the cane. 

The two stepped, side by side, as they continued their wandering through the grounds. A mass of topiary stood like a battalion, all seeming to dance in the cool breeze that swooped past them.

“Ah, yes, my grandfather had rather an affectionate view on the topiary, he liked the life that one could instil within an inanimate object. I don’t very much care for them, but my groundskeepers all keep on top of their trimming to ensure his enjoyment remains.” 

_ That was an interesting statement. _

Grian’s gaze narrowed on the tall man as his attention grappled onto his recent words.

_ He talks about his family, his great grandfather, his grandfather… But… _

Grian glanced about himself and upon further inspection, he realised that he’d never seen another soul travel with Mumbo to the town and hadn’t spotted anyone in the manor or traipsing around the estate in the entire time that they’d been together.

“Where are your family?” At the question the taller man seemed to stiffen as he halted in his walking, his leg remained arched in a step before he calmly brought it back down beside the other. His head hung low, his chin grazed his chest. Grian watched as the man’s back heaved out with a sigh. 

“Indisposed. Unfortunately, I have no contact with them. They’ve…” He paused as he kept his back turned to Grian. “Passed onto the old world.”

_ Passed on…? Like?  _

_ Oh god…  _

_ I really walked into that one!  _

Grian could have kicked himself, his eyes slipped closed as his lips pulled to a taut line and paled under the pressure of his jaw clamping. He cringed inwardly before glancing back to Mumbo, he gave a wince.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

At Grian’s tone of empathy, the man twisted on his heel and scowled at the other with confusion, the force behind those furrowed brows froze the blond.

“They’re not dead.” He blurted, words mashed with astonishment. It was as if Mumbo was surprised that Grian could have come to such an outlandish conclusion.

_ Fuck. _

His eyes widened and his cheeks heated with the embarrassment that flushed through him. He hung his head low as he rubbed his hands over his burning face. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.” Grian whimpered out in remorse, his chest ached with the embarrassment that swelled within him and he was certain that he may fade to dust from the mere shame.

“Oh, no matter. I’m sure they wish they were.” Mumbo hummed thoughtfully before he shrugged and walked past Grian. “Anyhow, that is the tour. Please feel free to explore in your own time. I’m sure you’ll find your way around. I must warn you though, I am a busy man and won’t be available in the daytime. I have so many jobs and errands to run.” Mumbo hummed. “I’m almost certain that you’ll find an adequate way of entertaining yourself, however?”

The blond’s jaw slackened at the abrupt end to the conversation and in turn the tour itself. He stood still, unsure as to what to do with himself. He glanced between the manor and Mumbo himself before he shifted from foot to foot. 

Seemingly sensing his turmoil, the taller man’s lips spread in a wide, almost predatory smile as he swooped in close. “Don’t worry, little rabbit, I won’t leave you alone out here.”

Grian’s eyes widened to that of saucers at the words that slipped so elegantly from Mumbo’s mouth and to his ear. He shivered in place before he forced himself to stiffen, his gaze hardened. “Rabbit?” He asked, voice sturdy and quite the opposite to his quivering innards.

The taller man’s face slackened at the suddenly harsh tones as he stepped back and watched the smaller. It was as if a child had uttered a curse word to his face, Grian could have laughed at the sight. Mumbo’s lips were skewed in a curved format that hinted at his astonishment, his brows had risen to his hairline and he stood back several steps and merely watched the other.

A shrill, almost bleating silence echoed between them before Mumbo broke it with an absentminded statement. “My servant will show you to your room. Excuse me.” He then blustered passed the blond and marched away. 

Grian watched him leave, his stare fixed on the other as his coat billowed behind him and if staff clinked against the pebbles. As the man retreated, Grian was certain he’d caught a word. It’d been whispered under a breath, it remained just a wisp of a sound and he wasn’t certain if he’d heard it or made it up. 

Either way, the word had been uttered in a language that Grian wasn’t familiar with in the slightest. His brows drew together as he muttered the very thing to himself.

“Peritissimus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you get that? There is a massive clue to how this story is going to twist, so I hope you all saw the clue, if not, then I will be clarifying everything later in the story and it will all become clear. 
> 
> In the meantime though, I am enjoying leaving you all these breadcrumbs and I do hope you find them or if you read back through the story once it's finished, you may spot the clues yourselves :D
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it and I'd love to hear/read where you all think this story is going to twist to in the upcoming chapters :D
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed this chapter then please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know what you thought :D


	4. Sly, Snakelike, Slimy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so this chapter is rather short, so I apologise. However, things will start to pick up pace soon, I promise :D
> 
> There are no content warnings on this chapter. However, there is some swearing.
> 
> Anyhoo, stay safe and happy reading!

A shudder of green grazed through the estate as the cool evening breeze blustered through the blades of grass, each danced to their own tune as they swayed gently along with the huffing wind.

The setting sun had hidden behind a mask of grey fluffing masses as it set below the horizon, the last smattering of golden tendrils tickled at the darkness as it waved its final farewell to the blond who stood in the silence that was left in the wake of the taller man.

Grian’s eyes were trained on the space that Mumbo had stood, his looming presence remained, towering over the shorter man. He cursed himself as he stood straighter, a flooding of irritation muttered across his chest and plucked at each rib as he resented the meek smallness that he’d presented.

_ I shouldn’t be so scared, so shy… _

_ I… Well, I normally act like the king of each situation, why… How does he bring out such a -- _

“Hello, sir.”

Grian’s shoulders jumped up to his ears as his muscles tensed at the sudden sound, his eyes widened to that of saucers as he glanced back and over his shoulder to the owner of the voice.

The man that greeted his peering gaze was taller than Grian himself but shorter than Mumbo. His skin was lightly tanned, it was as if it should have been a darker shade but it seemed to have been bleached by a dark shadow rather than bathed by the sun.

His eyes were a bright, almost amber as they blasted through him, delving deep into his vortex of thought. The blond stepped back, hoping distance may dampen the intensity of his stare. 

“Hi.” Grian muttered back, his lips drabbed together as if they had melted and were suddenly too heavy to move. 

The two stood facing one another for the longest time, Grian shifted his weight from side to side as he watched him, gaze wary and untrusting. 

“My name’s Drake, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

_ Does the poshness live in the fucking air or something?  _

_ We’re in the north of England! No one should be this poncey! _

Grian cleared his throat and grappled onto the thoughts that almost forced their way through his mouth, he gave a sheepish smile of apology before nodding in agreement. “And yours.” He hummed back. 

A sheen of quiet once again settled on the two, as if someone had thrown a veil of awkwardness over their sense of social normalities. Grian’s cerulean irises bounced across the tanned man’s features before finally, they descended to the ivory pebbles that growled beneath his feet.

“I have been asked to show you to your room. If you’d like to follow me?”

Grian’s brows twitched and then furrowed, a sense of unease washed over him as he glanced behind himself and to the direction that Mumbo had disappeared from sight before he then took a step forward, his hands gesturing for unsaid words. “Wait, ‘asked’? How? Mumbo went that way and he never mentioned having more than one member of staff?”

“Correct, I am his one and only residential servant.” Drake hummed, his words rolling off his tongue as if he were salivating pure slippery butter. “No matter though, you will be looked after adequately.”

_ No. No!  _

_ How could he know?  _

_ If there’s no one else here, how did he know? _

“Wait, no, stop.”

The servant paused in his movements and twisted on the balls of his feet, as he finally faced the shorter man, Grian could have slapped the softly smiling face that greeted him. The condescending appearance that the man held so effortlessly dug into something deep within the blond. 

A growling animal howled within his chest as it clawed at his ribs and begged to be released.

“Pray tell what’s bothering you?”

_ What’s bothering me?  _

_ What’s bothering me is you all act the same, all speak the same, all -- _

_ Cult. This is a cult, isn’t it? _

_ The legends, the myths. It’s a… _

“Bothering me? No, nothing… I just, I don’t understand how you could know to come show me to my room if Mumbo only just left and he went the opposite direction that you appeared from.” 

That same smile greeted the blond as Drake dipped his head and shrugged his shoulders. He remained quiet as he delved into his pocket and tugged out a similar apple device that Grian had in his jeans.

“He texted me, sir. Can I show you to your room now?” 

Grian stared at the phone that dangled from his thumb and forefinger, he wanted to slap it out of his hand. Grian gave a weak smile and a jerking nod, hoping that Drake may brush past his outburst and continue in leading him away and to his room. 

“Marvelous, please follow me.” Drake grinned as he pocketed the device and twisted back around before he marched away and towards the large manor.

_ Smarmy fucking git _ .

* * *

Although the manor appeared cavernous from the outside, Grian never could have predicted the sheer scale of its vast hallways and winding corridors. 

Dated wood stretched across the floor and creaked with each of his steps, the lofty ceiling hung above them as if it were peering down from the heavens themselves and the furniture that decorated the area wouldn’t have been out of place in a museum dedicated to victorian life. 

Drake’s shoes clipped quietly against the hardwood and it appeared that with each of his steps, the floor remained deftly quiet but with each of Grian’s it sang a moaning tune that counted for all. 

A morse code of doors passed them by as they both ambled through the upstairs hall, chandeliers dangled from their hangings and pictures loomed over the walls, each depicting some other figure that vaguely resembled Mumbo. 

“Here is your room, sir. Your bags are inside and I made the bed up for you. If you have any issues or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call on me, there is a service bell by the bed.”

Grian glanced between Drake and the room, his stomach riled at the idea of someone being to keen to serve that they advertised a way to disturb them through the blissful nocturnal hours. 

“Mister Jumbo prefers not to dine at breakfast, may I ask what you might prefer?”

Grian stared at the man, a baffled and confused expression marred his features. “What would I prefer?”

A smooth chuckle slipped from Drake’s lips as he nodded encouragingly as if he were nudging along an infant. Grian’s stomach tightened and his throat swelled around the words that he desperately clawed back. 

“Would you prefer to dine at breakfast?”

“Yes.” Grian answered finally as he gave his own fake smile and nodded jerkily. “I am very tired though, so I’m just gonna --” He pointed towards the door, directing Drake’s gaze towards it, the man stared for a moment as if perplexed at the suggestion of Grian being sleepy.

“Ah, of course. You rest, I shall greet you in the morning.”

_ Please don’t. _

“Okay, thank you very much.” The blond hummed out before he escaped into the room, closing the door in Drake’s face as soon as he could. The thick brass handle clicked as the door lodged itself into its frame. 

As the barrier was thrown between Grian and the mansion that expanded out from his bedroom, he huffed out in relief, the sigh washed through him as if it were a dove that had taken to the sky, it’s gentle wings hummed through the breeze and with it, took all his anxieties and fears with him. 

But as much as he calmed, a new thought weaselled its way into his mind and took residence at the forefront of his brain. 

A strange sense of isolation hung over him.

_ I’m alone. Totally and utterly alone.  _

His hand reached to his pocket and gripped at his phone but as he tried to unlock the device, the screen remained black. 

His heart stuttered in his chest as the drained battery sign appeared over the dark glass, his eyes flicked up to the room and it had everything.

If Grian hadn’t been desperately searching for a plug socket, he would have been in utter awe at the sight of the place, the well-furnished interior was just as dated as the rest of the manor, however, a sleek sense of home hummed in the undertones. 

He wasn’t sure if it were the fireplace, the silky bed sheets or the fluffy patterned carpets that spread over the floorboards, however, he was certain that not a single modern appliance existed in the room, all except the lamp that sat idly glowing atop the bedside table.

_ Fuck… _

_ What am I supposed to do now? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? Short? I know :-/ I am working on it, I am currently planning out the future chapters, so this one was added to sate your guy's hunger for more ;-)
> 
> Have any of you got any guesses as to where it's going yet? 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it either way and as always, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know what you thought :D


	5. The Curse, The Legend, The Myth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, here I am with another update. Hurrah! It is a little longer than the last one and we are just on the brink of something... Or are we?
> 
> I hope you all like this one :D 
> 
> There is a reference to death in this chapter, so if you read right up until the POV switch (Indicated by the line) and then scroll down to the bottom of the page and to the bottom and there will be a summary for everyone who may be triggered by the description of such a dark scene.
> 
> As always, stay safe and happy reading!

A silky veil of black velvet hung loosely outside the window, it tapped it’s decaying finger against the glass as it ventured inside the bedroom. Silhouettes of trees and hedge mazes danced throughout the bleak landscape.

A thick rug washed away the chill from the floorboards as it stretched its thick woolly tendrils across the span of the room. It stopped short of the skirting boards that lined the foot of the walls.

Decorations of an age that had retired generations prior, hung like trophies across the room as they each sang the stories of their inanimate lives, memories of an era that should have died with the people who lived among the artefacts. 

Thick curtains draped their dark, grey masses from the four posters that stood tall on each corner of the bed frame. The quilt covered the small body that curled beneath its mass and encased him in a bubble of warm comforts.

Beyond the bedroom, the house creaked its snoring slumber as nightfall echoed through its restful body. All was quiet, except for the sitting room.

A fire bubbled and cracked with life as it hummed below the mantle, its angry roars were the only sound that gave away any sign of wakefulness in that vast room.

Chairs and sofas stood steadily as they watched the man reclining in his signature high-back seat. 

Mumbo’s head fell against the plush cushions as he watched the flames lick at the pillars of ivory that framed it, his eyes followed each spat spark that flew up from the dancing flickers and descended down and into the pit of wood that remained charred and gnawed on by the hungry inferno.

Vibrant viridescent irises glowed with the golden light that spilt out from the fire, it lit up the amber liquid that sloshed about the bottom of the glass tumbler that rested between Mumbo’s fingers. He lifted the thing to his lips and took a burning sip from the strong alcohol.

“He’s asleep, sir.” 

The voice hung low and disruptive as the silence fled from its noisy path. Mumbo’s brow furrowed as the peace was shattered, his lips turned down and his chest knotted with irritation. It was the only display of true emotion before his mask was replaced and a fake smile twisted across his features, like a knife coiling and tearing through muscles. 

His gaze flicked away from his drink and finally settled on the man who hung in the doorway, like a tabletop laced with a sheen of dust, the man’s suit clung to his body and followed the lines of his limbs. His skin remained a paradoxical shade of high melanin and the cursed paleness that leaked from each pore on his flesh.

“Thank you, Drake. I cannot even begin to thank you for your willingness to keep a firm eye on him. I do urge you to remain as stoic as usual, he cannot suspect a thing.” Mumbo’s words trickled from his lips and slunk through the air. 

His hardened gaze remained on Drake and focused on the lines that furrowed through his face as the man shook his head in puzzlement. “But sir, he--”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

The question pierced through Drake’s words and silenced him, his mouth clamped shut at the sound of the stern resonance that reverberated from Mumbo’s chest. 

“N-No, sir, you didn’t.”

“Then I expect you to remain compliant.”

Mumbo stilled then, his eyes followed over the man’s body as it shifted. The moustached man watched as Drake’s argumentative disposition switched to that of reluctant submission, his shoulders slackened and his face hardened to a porcelain mask as he gave the same gracefully fake smile and ducked his head in a twitching bow.

“As you wish, sir.” His words hung through the air with two separate meanings, there was the obvious yielding of his internal struggle of acceptance but then there was the dagger.

It flew through the space between the two like a string of barbed wire and Mumbo was certain that if he took a wrong step, it would end with blood loss, either from himself or Drake.

He jerked his head in a nod and watched as the man twisted on his heel and exited the room, the clicking of his shoes against the floorboards was the only evidence of his continued retreat as he receded to the servant’s quarters. 

Mumbo’s stare remained trained on the space that the other man had once occupied and a small smile tugged at his lips as his eyes glistened with a predatory smirk.

His chest fluttered with amusement as his gaze fell back to the rim of his glass and he took a slow appreciative sip of the amber liquid.

“Mister Charleston, you are ever an interest of mine.” He huffed out, almost absentmindedly. It was as if Mumbo wasn’t aware that he’d spoken aloud. “Strong in thigh and deft in fang, a howling thing, like death it rang. Hell’s gate has since been open, and from it, a demon was stolen.”

~~~

A shadow clambered across the wall and shielded the stairwell from the roaring flames that cast their glow from out of the sitting room. It seeped delicately through the upper floor of the house and slithered under the door and finally came to rest beside the body that lay prone under the silky covers.

Grian’s blond hair was a mess of curls that stuck up in random waves as they poked out from beneath the warmth of the bed, he gave a small whimper as his slumbering consciousness delved deeper and deeper into a dreamscape that filled his mind.

_ Rain poured from the heavens, it was as if the overcast greyness were weeping their sorrowful tears on the land. The water plummeted down to the ground and filtered into puddles that shone with the dull light that flooded the area. _

_ Grian’s steps echoed through the alleyway as he walked through it. A flooding of butterflies had been released behind his ribs. He wasn’t sure as to what had provoked the sense of pure anxiety, but he was plainly aware of its existence. _

_ His eyes followed the grimy damp walls through the dark walkway until finally, he arrived at the mouth of the alley. Two houses stood like elongated canines on either side of the entryway and beyond that was a group of men all huddled together. _

_ Grian’s brow furrowed at the sight of the gathering and on further inspection, the lines of his face deepened along with his confusion.  _

_ Mumbo headed the ensemble, his shiny slick hair was combed back and out of his face, his pale complexion almost shone with the contrast of his curling moustache and his eyes were as bright as ever as they remained downcast on something that stood just beyond the blond’s view.  _

_ Drake and Iskall occupied the spaces on either side of the taller man, their own complexions remained pale and almost luminescent as they shared Mumbo’s interest in the thing on the ground. Finally, to the opposite of Mumbo and with his back turned to Grian was Ren.  _

_ “It’s such a shame that this has happened and at such a young and ripe age.” Drake’s voice cooed through the group and a flurry of nodding heads was the response of the other members. _

_ “I did repeat the town’s warnings of you all.” Ren’s voice echoed down the alley and bounced around Grian as it ricochetted about his mind.  _

_ “Oh, yes of course. I would expect nothing else.” Mumbo finally replied after a moment’s silence. _

_ The blond’s brow creased as his confusion worsened, he stepped forward and out of hiding, taking his place between Iskall and Ren, much like he had when he was back in the cottage’s living room.  _

_ His eyes flicked from face to face and each shared the same mask of despair as the others. Cerulean eyes bounced from Iskall to Mumbo to Drake to Ren and finally, he stared down at the thing on the ground but what he saw sparked nothing but a more intense sense of puzzlement as he gazed at the group’s focal point.  _

_ There was nothing, nothing but a strange dark entity that laid coiled around itself, like a rope of shadows.  _

_ “It’s those words, it’s the curse, the legend, the myth.” Iskall chimed in then, interrupting Grian’s assessment of the thing in the middle of them all. _

_ His eyes focused back on the darkness and when he once again couldn’t make out what it was, his chest constricted and it felt as though a small group of men were tugging at the edge of each of his ribs and forcing his lungs to release the trapped breath that lingered in his throat. _

_ “Ren. What the fuck is going on?” He hissed the question to his cousin but when he received no answer, his eyes finally fell on him. Ren’s eyes were still trained down on the thing, his attention was stolen and captured. _

_ Grian’s jaw clenched as his eyes fell back to it. There was a sense of familiarity that emanated through it as if he knew what he was peering at, but he just couldn’t make out the details of it as it remained just slightly out of his reach. _

_ “Ren.” Grian hissed once more as he stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of his Cousin’s face, tugging his attention up to him. “Ren, what are you looking at?” _

_ The man’s eyes remained wide and dull as if he was staring into space, his jaw slackened as a dopey smile spread across his face. “He should have listened.” _

_ “Who!?” Grian screamed then, a frightful fear coiled it’s green tarry fingers through his heart and pumped its viscous toxicity through the miles of veins and capillaries that lined the internals of his body. “Who should have listened?” _

_ “You.” _

_ The word that finally made its way through Ren’s lips was one that Grian hadn’t been prepared to hear. His eyes widened to that of saucers as he backed away from his cousin, his shoulders collided with something hard and cold. He gave a huffing grunt as he twisted around. _

_ He’d bumped into Mumbo’s broad chest and as he stared up at the man, he was met with Iskall’s, Drake’s and Mumbo’s smiling faces, but what made the sight all the more unsettling was that they weren’t smiling at him, rather through him.  _

_ His brows rose and almost tangled with his hairline as he twisted on his heel and stared down at the thing, once more. Finally, he could see it, make it out, or rather make  _ him  _ out. _

_ Lying prone and spread across the damp and dingy ground was a body, a familiar figure. His tanned skin was exposed through the tears of his clothes, his hair was clumped and dirty as it formed a blond halo around his head, his features were locked in one of fright that had frozen in a Rigor Mortis.  _

_ Blood seeped out through the gashes in his body and it was then, just that moment, that he realised that he was no longer standing. It was Grian himself who was laid out on the floor and all four of those men stood above him, watching him, their faces were spread in malicious smiles and their teeth were nothing but sharp ivory blades as Ren, Iskall, Drake and Mumbo all watched him.  _

_ He was dead. _

Grian’s eyes widened as he sat up in a swift jerking motion, his chest heaved with a panting pace as he stared out to the daylight soaked room. His limbs tingled as they too awoke from the slumber that had once stolen them and a wetness covered his body as his pyjamas stuck to his skin, glued to him with a slick watery paste of icy sweat.

He shook his head, trying with all his might to shake out the images that still flashed through his memories, his hands cupped at his temples and his palms covered his eyes as he rocked himself gently, like an infant in a cradle. 

“It was just a dream.”

[SUMMARY FOR THOSE WHO MAY BE TRIGGERED]

\- We are taken up to Grian who is asleep in bed.

\- He begins having a dream and we enter the dream with him.

\- He's walking through an alleyway in his dream.

\- At the end of the alley, he spots Mumbo, Ren, Drake and Iskall.

\- They are all huddled around something

\- Grian can't actually see what it is and so he tries his best to figure out what it is they're looking at, but all the while he is filled with anxiety and fear, but he cannot place why he's feeling such things.

\- Drake mutters that it's such a shame that a tragedy has happened and to someone so young.

\- Ren mentions that he has tried to warn him away from the other three.

\- Mumbo agrees that Ren did the right thing.

\- Iskall sighs and says how it's the curse, the legend, the myth that was the cause of such a tragedy.

\- We then see Grian trying to get Ren to explain what's going on.

\- Ren mentions that 'he' should have listened, we then find that he's talking about Grian.

_*** TRIGGER *** - Grian then realises that he's dead. - *** TRIGGER ***_

\- Grian wakes up then.

\- Grian declares that it was just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that guys? 
> 
> I hope you liked it :D
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I think I gave a lot of info when it comes to hints :D
> 
> If you all noticed the Latin word that was spoken by Mumbo in Chapter 3, then well-done :D the word is directly translated to 'highly skilled'. But it can be used as 'Dominant, domineering or masterful.'
> 
> There have also been other clues as to where the story is going to go, so I hope you all have spotted them :D Please let me know your theories on the progression of the story, I love hearing them :D
> 
> But, as always, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D


	6. The Waning Crypt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So here is the newest chapter! Thank you all for being so patient with me, I have been so busy with work and with other stories that I just haven't had the energy to write this one. I'm sorry :(
> 
> But anyway, I came home from work today and just had to write something! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this story, and if you can find the little hints that I've left, then gold star for you :D I would love to see your theories in the comments :D

Through the shifting curtains, a soft light shimmered through the winking gap as the two panels of cloth swished together, their smooth and silky panes of material whispered barely-there secrets as they hung from the pole above. 

The peach glow slithered across the room and shimmered from the reflective polished wooden furnishings before finally spreading out over the bed like a cool sheet of brightness. 

Grian shifted under the covers, his legs twitched and his eyes clenched against the light that danced atop his face. He scrunched his features as he slowly drew into the world of wakefulness and left the sleepy unconsciousness behind him. 

His brows furrowed as he took in the sight of his surroundings, it was all foreign, all a strange mass of unknown. 

It wasn’t his humble apartment or Ren’s cosy cottage, it was a place that he barely recognised and for a moment he hadn’t a clue as to where he was.

If it wasn’t for the watchful portrait of Mumbo’s ancestor glaring over his resting form, he’d never had guessed where he lay.

A carpet that had existed for longer than he’d been alive spanned its unending reach across the floor, its swirling patterns came to a halt at the feet of the mahogany furniture that stood tall and proud in their placings around the room. 

A wardrobe that was fat with a lifetime worth of clothes and memories stretched to its full height and glared down upon him from where it stood in the corner. 

Grian watched it and for a moment, he was sure that it would pluck up the courage to offer him an outfit or tell him a childhood story of the distant Mumbo Jumbo.

Beside it, there was a vanity, a small stumpy table that was adorned with a mirror and other aged objects littered its surface. 

As he watched it, he thought he could almost picture the lady of the estate sat before the reflective screen, fixing her makeup or preening her hair, all the while humming some comforting tune. The lilting imagined tones were but an echo of what once was a reality. 

Grian watched the stark contrasting items with a cool sleepy stare, his mind was still fuzzy with the slumber that he’d just awoke from.

While he was certain that he was far from home, there was a strangely comforting chime that bathed the room that surrounded him, it was like an echo of memories resounded through the four walls, and while they weren’t his own, he still seemed to take some amount of pleasure from them.

The bubble popped as his phone chimed with an incoming text, he glanced at the mobile and his eyes fixed on the name of the sender. It was Ren.

“Are you dead, yet?” He read the message aloud and held back the snort of amusement that threatened to spill from him. He grasped the phone and shot off a reply, his fingers tapping at the screen.

‘No. But I might not be able to text much, they don’t have any sockets to charge my phone with.’ As he hit the send button, his eyes flicked up to the digital clock at the top of the screen and a dazzling wave of nausea collided with his chest as his throat tightened.

It read ‘09:05 am’. 

While that time wouldn’t usually cause such a strong reaction within the blond, the fact that time was still an existing mechanic within his world seemed to cause a great deal of discomfort to arise within him.

His brows raised in shock as he realised why the time had disturbed him so, during his stay at the Jumboline estate, Grian hadn’t registered that the hours and seconds were indeed still passing him by, it felt as if time itself was halted and pinched in place, as if a pause button had been depressed. 

Grian wasn’t certain how long he’d been a resident of this strange stagnant place, all he knew was that one night had passed by, and so it couldn’t have been longer than a twenty-four hour period. 

No matter how much of his life had been spent at the manor, he knew that he’d spent too long in bed. He had a report to write, a column to produce. He couldn’t wash his entire stay lounging in the bed, no matter how comforting his room was.

Grian slipped from beneath the covers and pulled on fresh clothes from his bag before padding from the room.

It was the same as the night prior, the hallway hadn’t changed, although the fresh morning light exposed the details that he had once missed. 

Edwardian architecture hung over his head as swirling patterns were sculpted into the ceiling, the spruce wooden wall panels were carved and angular as they stood around him. 

A warmth hung in the cream wallpaper, it was crisp and unmarred by age as it spanned across the hall, its length of white was only interrupted by the odd painting that hung over Grian, the eyes of Mumbo’s ancestors watched his every step.

Like a delicate silver necklace that looped around a lady’s neck, the smell of freshly cooked bacon and salty breakfast foods infused the air and tickled at Grian’s nose. As he smelled it, his stomach gave a deep rumble of need, he grimaced in discomfort as he stared down at his aching abdomen and rubbed at the skin beneath his jumper. 

The scent tugged at him, like a dog on a leash, and lead him down to the dining area. The stairs creaked with each of his steps and the manor opened up to the large, high ceilinged foyer. 

Beyond the foyer, Grian spotted a table and chairs, he breached the room and was greeted by a large mahogany table, it spanned almost the entire room and it was so thick that he wouldn’t have been able to grip at it with his hand.

Sat at the end, was Drake. The man’s skin was as pale as Mumbo’s and his hair was a soft wavy mass that hung around his ears. “Good morning, Mister Grian.” The man hummed out as he stood from his seat and bowed his head. 

Grian gave a tight-lipped smile in response to the greeting. “Morning.” He muttered as he tugged out a chair on the opposite side to Drake, the wood moaned as he lowered himself onto it. 

“I hope you slept well.” 

It was a statement, not a question and Grian wasn’t sure how to respond, the forced smile returned to his features as he gave a soft nod, his eyes followed Drake as he shifted to a cabinet and retrieved one plate and a set of cutlery from a drawer. 

“Very good. I do hope you like bacon, if not, I can prepare something else for you. The-...” He paused as if catching himself and gave a guilty smile before his features once again relaxed and he set the plate before the blond. “A lot of people seem to enjoy bacon in the morning.” He continued cooly as if nothing was amiss. 

“Yeah. I like bacon, it’s good.” Grian muttered awkwardly, deciding to ignore Drake’s slip.

He watched the man disappear through a door that he could only assume lead to the kitchen, leaving Grian alone. When he returned, he held a tray, adorned with several rashers of bacon and a bowl of scrambled eggs. He set it down before Grian within arms reach, deposited a serving spoon and a pair of tongues beside it.

Cerulean eyes bounced between the banquet that had been presented to him and Drake, all the while he couldn’t help but notice the other table settings, or lack thereof. His brow creased as a haze of confusion settled over the blond. “Are you not eating?” 

Drake’s hands clasped together before him as he gave a small bow and a nod of his head. “I don’t usually partake in breakfast.” He muttered cooly before twisting on his heel. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal.” 

Grian’s eyes latched onto the back of the man’s suit jacket and as he opened his mouth to speak, a flurry of words and noises billowed from his chest. He clamped his jaw shut as he cleared his throat, avoiding a now intrigued stare from the other. “Please, don’t leave.” He muttered softly. 

“Why ever not?” The perplexion shone clearly across his features as he lifted a cool, well-groomed brow. Grian cleared his throat once again hoping that maybe he could find some form of an intelligent answer to give the other. His lips tensed to a thin line as he came up blank.

“I don’t want to eat alone?” He almost whispered as his face screwed up in embarrassment. 

_ I’m supposed to be a writer for Christ’s sake… I should be able to talk or at the very least think of something to say…  _

“Very well.” Drake hummed in that same detached manner as he took his seat at the other side of the table. Grian could hardly keep himself from the feeling of guilt that slowly trickled into his chest. The sight of the empty space before drake, while he had an entire tray filled with food, seemed almost wrong.

“So…” He dragged out the ‘Oh’ as his mind ticked through thoughts in search for some form of inspiration. “Where’s Mumbo?” 

At the question, Drake shuffled in his seat, the wood creaked under his wake and the man winced slightly at the sound as if the chair had given away the obvious nerves that glittered under the surface of his skin. 

“Well… He’s… Err…” Drake stuttered for a moment and the sound of the man struggling for words enticed a sensation of elation from Grian as he watched him, thankful that he didn’t seem to be the only one who had been struck inarticulate. 

“He’s working.” Drake replied coolly.

“What does he do?”

“He signs and seals important documents and organises important meetings.” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t believe I’m at liberty to discuss that, Mister Grian, did you request me to stay with you on the sole premise that you could discover more about Mister Jumbo’s profession?”

Grian’s eyes widened as he paused, his hand froze halfway to his mouth and a slice of bacon slipped off his fork prongs. “Oh no!” He exclaimed. The metal clattered against porcelain as he dropped the cutlery. “I... “ He gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. “I guess with writing articles about different things… Well, I mean… Old habits die hard?” Grian fumbled with his words before giving a sheepish smile. 

“I see.” Drake droned before his shoulders relaxed once more. “I’ve been instructed to give you a tour today and specifically show you to the library.” 

Grian hummed around the mouthful of food before he nodded briefly and swallowed. “Yeah, that can wait a moment, tell me more about yourself, Drake.”

“A-About me?” 

Grian’s eyes locked on the man before him as his brows twitched. “Yeah, you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Okay, how about when you met Mumbo?”

“For generations, my family have worked for Mister Jumbo’s, we’ve known each other since we were children.”

“So you’re childhood friends?” Grian asked the question with a soft spurt of surprise as images of a young Mumbo Jumbo lit through his mind, barefaced and prepubescent, running around the estate with a young Drake hot on his heels. 

“I wouldn’t go as far as to suggest that we were friends, Mister Grian.” With Drake’s correction, the imaginings that had lit a light through the blond’s mind were dashed with cool icy water. “We were more like acquaintances, two people sharing a living space with their futures planned out for them by their parents.”

As Grian swallowed his mouthful, he winced as a hard and unchewed piece of bacon scratched at his throat. As he listened to Drake’s summary of his and Mumbo’s childhood, he was almost certain that he preferred his own version of the events in comparison. 

“So do you know about the myths and legends?”

“The Chagford Legend?”

“Yeah.”

A soft smile curled around Drake’s lips, it was laced with amusement, but as Grian watched it, he couldn’t figure out what exactly was the humorous part of his question.

“Forgive me, Mister Grian.” Drake mused as he raised a placating hand, the other lifted to cover his smirking mouth, muffling a soft chuckle. “I can’t help but find your question interesting. My family and I are very familiar with the legends that you’re interested in.”

“Okay, what’s your family name, maybe it could help in my research?”

“Hooler.” The response seemed so abrupt that Grian felt he’d been slapped, he watched the man for a moment, his eyes flickering over his face as he tried to assess if he’d upset him. But Drake appeared to be as calm and collected as ever, Grian’s brows furrowed as he mulled the name in his mind. 

“Drake Hooler?” 

“Correct.”

“That… That seems…”

“Seems what?” The challenging tone that lit through the other’s voice struck Grian like a sharp knife. He gave a soft smile before shrugging.

“I-It suits you.” He lied. “I just, it sounds familiar.”

“I’m sure it does.” Drake hummed softly as he stared at Grian’s now empty plate. “Would you care for that tour now?”

“Yes, I think I will.” Grian accepted the change of subject enthusiastically as he leant back, allowing the man to retrieve his used plate, tray and cutlery. “Thank you.”

He stared at Drake’s back as the man filtered from the room and as he sat alone, Grian could hardly shake the tension that snaked through his arms at the recent encounter. 

“Are you ready?”

Grian jumped in his seat as he glanced back at the other, his brows pinched together as he sputtered out a response, eyes darting between Drake and the kitchen door. “H-How did you? You went into the kitchen, how did you get --”

Drake chuckled softly as he shrugged away Grian’s confusion. “I shouldn’t be concerned, Mister Grian. This is an old house, and old houses have lots of  _ secret  _ passageways.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Like a yawning mouth, the arches in the hallway were so tall that not even Mumbo would have been able to reach the ceiling, Grian’s eyes traced along the patterns that were carved into the plaster as he followed diligently behind Drake. 

The man slinked like a cat, his hips swayed and as he pointed to each closed door he gave a brief description before he then moved them both along and to the next point of interest, 

Grian was hardly listening to him, his mind already fluttering away to some forgotten memory that lurked within the walls of the manor, children screaming and giggling as they clattered through the halls, a man who appeared similar to Drake but was much older scolded them and instructed the young boys to play outside, in the vast gardens. 

“This is the library,” Drake interrupted the daydream, snapping Grian from his musings. “I’m sure you’ll be spending the majority of your time here, Mister Jumbo ensures to keep his collections fully stocked and well managed.”

Drake twisted around then and appraised Grian with a soft smile as he nodded his head in the direction of a large dark wooden door. Grian was sure that there should have been cobwebs and dust looming over the frame but as he scrutinised it, he could barely see a spec of decolouration. 

“Is everything to your liking?”

“Hmm?” The blond glanced up to the man before he halted and ducked his head. “Uhh, yes, it is, thank you.”

“Very good, well, I will leave you here. I have duties to be getting along with. I bid you a good day.” With that, Drake bowed his head once more and sidestepped passed the smaller man. Grian shifted out of his way as he stared at his back, watching until Drake disappeared behind the corner and left him alone with his thoughts.

Grian gazed at the place that Drake had once stood. The man seemed… Wrong… Out of place and out of time, but yet he existed and… As Grian’s thoughts ticked away, a dull crash echoed through the manor. The blond yelped before he jogged over to the window that stood at the end of the hall. 

The same persistent fog continued to loom over the estate as what would have been luscious grass spanned across the gardens, only interrupted by a swathe of trees. As Grian’s eyes flicked across the scenery before him, a dark figure rushed by the bushes and finally sprinted across the grass. Grian’s stare narrowed as he recognised the figure to be Drake. 

The man moved in an almost shaking fashion, his head twisted about as if he was searching for something. It was almost as if Drake was being followed or chased but as Grian watched, he couldn’t spot anything or anyone other than Drake, himself. 

Grian’s heart clenched as the man disappeared in a cloud of smog. While Grian barely knew Drake, there was something in the man’s hurried gait that told tales of something, and that something was almost a beacon to Grian. He didn’t know how, but he knew, somehow, that whatever Drake was so frightened of,  _ that  _ was the key to the legends that he was so hellbent on solving.

He twisted on his heels and ran downstairs, following the path that Drake and he had taken to reach the library before he burst through the front door and finally he too was stood in the gardens. 

“Drake?!” He called out for the man but an echo of silence was all that greeted him. “Drake? Where are you? Are you okay?” He cried once again as he stepped forward, attempting to follow the direction that Drake had sprinted in. 

“Dra--” Grian’s voice cut off as he clamped his jaw shut at the sight that revealed itself from behind the fog. His feet glued themselves to the ground as he stood before a large limestone structure.

The gritty bricks shone a soft yellow as it stood, the dark chiselled slate that made the roof of the structure seemed to be sunken in as if the hulking mass of the building was a waning moon, half-eaten by the fog and half present in Grian’s line of sight. 

As the blond grew ever nearer his eyes brightened as he realised the building was a crypt, although it wasn’t a crypt in the usual sense, while it wasn’t hidden beneath the floor of a church or some other holy structure, it was by itself a free-standing waning crypt. His eyes narrowed on the door as he read the Latin inscription that had been carved into the stone above the wooden frame. 

“Nunc autem, non est hic.” As he read the foreign words his fingers lifted from his side as he reached out to it. The gravelly stone met his warm touch and a blinding light took over his mind as images flooded through his vision. 

It was as if someone had injected the fluid from someone else's mind into his own, as if he had taken that fateful step into another’s memories as a scene unravelled before his eyes.

Two men stood facing each other, they were in what appeared to be a dingy wine sellar, cobblestone walls loomed over them and cobwebs knotted at the ceiling in thick carpets of dusty, silken blankets. 

As they spoke their words grew ever more heated. Both seemed familiar but also very distant. Their greying and balding heads nodded and jerked with the ferocity of their speech, but their eyes were cold and dark, as if the life that held them as humans had faded to nought. 

“The treaty cannot be fulfilled!”

“Hooler has assured me that it will be done.”

“That blithering fool couldn’t tie his own handkerchief to knots without his father’s assistance. How could you rely on such a cretin?”

“Lucian, such harsh words will not solve that your daughter birthed a male. Even if Hooler prooves to be as incompetent as his father, he is the only source of information we have.”

“Yes, because your son refuses to commune with us under this roof, how can we begin to learn anything further? We have no choice but to rely on --”

“Lucian, quiet now, I do believe that we’re no longer alone.”

The two men’s voices fell silent and Grian’s breath caught in his throat. Their dark and dead eyes fixed on him and as they did, it was as if the tendrils from Satan himself launched through the ground of the living and took a hold of Grian’s consciousness. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as darkness enveloped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading :D
> 
> Also, I'd like to give a special shout out to SK Blind who actually inspired one of the characters in this chapter :D I wonder if you can tell which one?
> 
> Either way, if you have any theories or you think you have found the hints and clues that I've left, please leave a comment! I would love to hear what you think!
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed this story please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D
> 
> The newest chapter to Space Between Us and Spirals of Want and Desire will be coming soon! So keep your peepers peeled!


	7. The Halfway House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so here is a new chapter, I hope you enjoy this one.
> 
> I have been on a break recently, just while work has been completely busting my butt and the calamity that is corona in the UK *rolls eyes* 
> 
> Oh well, I'm back now and if any of you are fans of my other works, you will expect to see an update to Noah had it easy, I will also be updating my collab with Smolbun as I post a new chapter for The Space Between Us.
> 
> Also, SKBlind and I will be updating Spirals of Want and Desire very soon as well! So keep your eyes peeled.
> 
> But for now, I do hope you enjoy this chapter :D Happy reading!

A darkness engulfed him like a shrill blanket of raven satin, a cool tingling sensation lingered at the far reaches of his body, biting at his fingertips and carding its claws through his golden hair. Grian whimpered softly as the gentle mask of reality slowly began to settle around him like a veil of clarity.

Cracks and clicks could be heard as the fire sputtered from the corner, it’s flaming teeth gnawing at the fresh log it had been fed. It puffed out a wave of heat that plumed around Grian as he lay prone beneath the bed sheet that hung over him and weighed him to the mattress.

He shifted beneath the comforter as his face contorted and wrinkled, a whispered groan ghosted from between his lips as his body ached in complaint at being moved.

“He’s awake.”

Drake’s voice echoed through Grian’s reeling mind and the sound of it almost hurt as a panging sensation trembled through his cortex.

“Yes, yes he is, very astute observation, Drake.” A sarcastic snarl of a sentence rang out in answer to the Butler’s statement and even in his still dazed state, Grian knew that voice belonged to someone familiar, someone who he wouldn’t have been able to forget even if he tried.

“M-Mumbo?” He wheezed out the name as his lips shook with the effort to speak, he groaned and forced open his eyes only to gazed wearily at the two blurred forms at the edges of his reality.

“Yes, Grian, I am here. How do you feel?”

The blond winced as he shuffled to sit up, his body still had a lingering feel of overwhelming weight and it was sluggish as he moved. “Careful, sir.” Drake huffed as he staggered over to the side of the bed, his footsteps were a calamity of clacking heels as he scurried and hurriedly wrapped Grian’s shirt in a tight grip before he lifted him to sit.

Grian gave the man a soft smile of thanks before he glanced behind him and to Mumbo. “I feel fine, thank you, what happened?”

“You lost consciousness in the gardens, Iskall found you and carried you inside.” Mumbo hummed as he leant against the doorframe, recounting the events that Grian couldn’t recall. “Drake called the town’s doctor, he’s just departed, but he said that there’s no need to worry.”

Mumbo’s soft tone hardened as he glared across the room to Drake, Grian followed the moustached man’s eyes and watched as Drake shrank beneath the severity of Mumbo’s stare.

“But in calling him, he caused a rather large kerfuffle of a mess and your cousin heard about your ailment and has been trying to get through our gates to see you, I sent Iskall to drive him home, I told him that you could return to him once you’d awoken.”

Grian’s gaze resettled upon Mumbo, the imagery that the man’s words painted in the blond’s mind rattled through his skull as a shockwave of aches trickled across his scalp, Grian massaged the bridge of his nose as he took in the barrage of information.

“Ren was here?” He huffed, Mumbo paused, his mouth still hung open as if he were about to continue his speech, he clapped his jaw shut and inclined his head with a fake smile.

“Yes. He wanted you to go back with him, would you like me to--”

“No.” Grian’s chest ached with frustration, he was so close to finding the answer to his questions, the legends of Chagford. He had to finish his research. “I have a deal, I have to stick to it.”

At his answer, an amused smirk tugged at Mumbo’s lips as he nodded quietly and stepped towards the bed, the expensive fabric rustled with his movements and was accented by the soft ticking of the fire that still sputtered beside Drake.

Grian’s eyes followed Mumbo as he stepped ever closer, his shoes clicking against the hardwood. The man stopped an inch away from the mattress. “Very well, then may I invite you to walk with me. It appears you found my crypt while on your exploration of the manor.”

“Sir, no.” Drake butted in, at his interjection, both Grian and Mumbo’s eyes flicked across to stare at him, although Mumbo’s seemed to alight with a surge that would have seared through hardened steel, Grian’s gaze roved over the worried expression that creased across Drake’s features. “The doctor said he had to rest, he had to stay. The hu--”

Mumbo’s hand outstretched and forced Drake to stop in his rambling. “Drake. You need to leave.” He growled out. Grian’s eyes flicked back over to Mumbo and he almost yelped at the stern lines of his face. “And don’t go nattering to those old fools, they don’t understand what’s happening.” Mumbo’s stare met Grian’s as another smile, a softer one this time, curled across his lips. “Why don’t you make Grian some supper and leave us both be?”

“But sir.”

“Drake, I will not ask you again. I would say you’ve been delightful in serving me and my family for as long as you and your own family have, but that would be a mistake wouldn’t it? Because, what exactly have you done?”

“I… Sir, I --”

“Exactly, you’re no better than a stuttering child. Leave Grian and I alone, prepare him some supper and in the meantime, why don’t you try and decide where you’d like to go because you are now no longer a part of this household and certainly no longer my employee.”

“Sir!” Drake’s voice jumped an octave as he yelped out in his shock, an air of horror floated through him. “Sir, you can’t just… You can’t fire me! I have been a part of this family for --”

“I can and I will. I am the master of this estate. Not my father. I have never liked you. Forget supper, I will prepare it myself.” Mumbo growled as he reached forward and tugged on the service bell that hung beside Grian’s head, the thing chimed and within what felt like seconds, Iskall poked his head through the door.

“Mumbo?”

“Iskall, take Drake away.”

“Where?”

“I don’t care. Just away from this estate. Let him pack his things and then drop him at the station. He is no longer welcome here.”

“Sir, I beg you to reconsider.”

Mumbo paused for a moment and as he did, he glanced down to Grian, a pout of thought tugged at his lower lip, the expression was almost comical if not for the circumstances. The blond distantly wished for the man to spare a second thought if only to satiate the horrified expression that had taken residence over Drake.

“Considered and thought, I still don’t want you here. Leave.”

“Sir, you can’t!” Drake screamed desperately as Iskall clasped a hold of his shirt and tugged him towards the door. His voice seemed like a scattered mess as he desperately tried to take the man’s attention, although Mumbo’s eyes slipped closed as a sour smirk lingered and held back a cruel chuckle. “Sir, you… Please! Mumbo! We grew up together! We… Sir!!”

“Iskall. Stop.” Mumbo growled out then as he held his hand up, finger extended as if he had pressed a pause button. “On second thought, he is welcome on the estate.”

Grian stared at all three men that crowded in his room, his eyes jumped from Mumbo to Drake and then finally to Iskall. At Mumbo’s recent words a sigh of relief flooded through him as his gaze softened on the man, thankful that he’d not been so heartlessly cruel to the butler.

“He can be taken to the halfway house.”

“Th- Mumbo, are you sure?” Iskall asked, brows raised.

As Grian heard the suggestion of a halfway house, he felt almost relieved at the compromise, although the peaceful sensation was sliced away as Iskall’s voice trembled. An overwhelming sensation of morbid curiosity and fear welled deep within his chest.

“Yes, Iskall, I am most certain.”

“No! Mumbo! No! Don’t! I want to go to the station! You’ll never hear from me again! I’ll go quietly, I promise!”

“Drake, my darling Drake.” Mumbo crooned as he sidled towards the desperate man. He gently stroked a hand across the butler’s cheek as he smiled predatorily, “Please relax. As you said, your home is here and yes we grew up together, I could really find a use for you in the halfway house. It’s my only offer.”

With that final statement, the begging butler was dragged away, his screams echoed down the hall as he was lead through the manor. Mumbo hummed softly to himself as he gently shut the door.

“Now that was rather a palava, don’t you think?” The man muttered with a muted chuckle as he stepped towards the window and pulled back the curtains, exposing the darkened sky and glittering stars. Grian shifted where he sat and gripped at the duvet.

“What’s the halfway house?”

Mumbo’s eyes flicked towards him as he considered the blond’s question, he padded to the fireplace, his fingers drummed across the mantle before he twisted to face Grian once more. “It’s a nice little cottage at the far end of the grounds, my gardener once lived there, it's a nice little place and rather cosy, it’s a lovely spot for Drake to stay in while we decide how he could be of use to us.”

Grian’s brow furrowed with confusion, memories of Drake’s desperate screams still echoed through his ears. “If it’s a ‘nice place’ then why did he not want to go?”

“Oh he’s overdramatic, I think it may be down to how he used to bully the groundskeeper at one point, he bullied him so nastily that he departed, so I’m sure he’s just feeling residual guilt at taking his former home.” Mumbo picked at a hangnail before he gave a shrug and smiled once more.

“But anyway, that’s no longer important. Let’s prepare for our walk. I’ll wait outside while you get dressed.”

“Get dressed? But I was wearing --”

“Oh no, Grian, I can assure you, you’ll need to get dressed, as I said, I’ll be waiting outside.”

With that, the world seemed to almost float as Mumbo slipped out of the room and clicked the door closed behind him.

Everything seemed so overwhelming, it had all happened so quickly that the blond could hardly register what had occurred. His brows furrowed as he covered his face with his hands and let out a groaning sigh.

“The treaty cannot be fulfilled” --- “Hooler has assured me that it will be done.”

The dusty voices of the old men echoed through his mind, they were the last things he’d seen before he’d blacked out. Were they even real?

“Grian, not to rush you, but the night is upon us and we still have dinner to prepare now that our trusty butler has been relinquished of his duties.”

Mumbo’s voice trailed into the room from behind the door, Grian’s head snapped up as his eyes narrowed on the wooden panel that separated them. His lips tightened as he gave a silent nod. “Yeah, sorry, I won’t be long.” He huffed as he pulled back the covers in a swoop.

Cool air drifted across his body as he was exposed, it was almost instantly replaced by an overwhelming burning heat that lit a fire through his cheeks as he stared down at his naked form.

He’d been dressed, he’d worn jeans, a jumper and while he still donned a white vest, the rest of his body was bare and exposed.

His hands covered his face again as images of Iskall and Drake undressing his unconscious form entered his mind.

* * *

Spanning raven silk hung heavily through the sky, it’s reach was interrupted by distant stars that shimmered through a viscous fog that veiled across the gardens in a chilling mist, it’s smoggy breath held Grian’s vision tightly and other than the man beside him and the distant silhouettes of trees, Grian couldn’t see anything.

A bass drum of crunching grass punctuated the silence that encapsulated them, the chilly and dewy air clung to the blades of the lawn and the soft swishing and crushing seemed louder in that air of almost nothingness.

“So, having thought that my family would never be buried in the town’s cemetery, my grandfather had the crypt constructed.” Mumbo’s words echoed through the night as he prattled out an explanation for the crypt’s origins.

“Mumbo?” Grian’s voice croaked from lack of use, he cleared his throat before trying again. “Mumbo?” He spoke and as he did, the man smiled down at him, his pale skin illuminated by the distant moon and starlight.

“Yes?”

“What does the Latin mean? I saw an inscription above the crypt door and I --” Grian paused as his mind filled with the memories of the two old men. He clenched his eyes shut as he shook away the image. “I can’t read Latin and I presume that’s what it was.”

“Yes. It’s Latin.” Mumbo hummed before pausing. The silence settled around them once more as they continued to walk, the darkness being their only companion as they ventured deeper into the grounds. “It reads: Here is not here.”

The blond’s brow furrowed once more for with that answered question several more had taken its place, like a hydra.

“Grian, if you have questions, I implore you to ask, I can hear your brain clanking away like a machine.”

The blond blushed at that and he was suddenly very grateful for the lack of visibility. “When I touched the inscription, I…” He paused, “It sounds silly, Mumbo.”

“Codswallop!” The man exclaimed tugging a soft breathy chuckle from the blond.

“Okay, but you need to promise not to laugh at me.”

Mumbo stopped walking and then turned to face the smaller man. Although he couldn’t see the man properly, he was certain that Mumbo was staring at him. No, not at him, but into him. “You have my word.” He muttered softly.

Grian’s eyes fell from where Mumbo’s face would have been, behind the darkness, and down to the ground, he shuffled from foot to foot as a series of nerves shattered through him as anxiety built distantly through his chest.

“When I touched it, I think I had a vision.” He nibbled on his lips nervously before he continued. “Or a dream.” He shrugged then. “I’m not sure what it was, but I saw something. I think I saw into the crypt. It was a dark room at the least and it was damp and… Cavernous? Anyway, I saw two old men, they were talking about a treaty. They spoke about two men and how one of the men wouldn’t speak to them and… They mentioned a name.”

Grian’s eyes clenched shut as he prepared for the other man to mock him, or laugh at him or do anything other than remain silent, except that is exactly what Mumbo did. The only sound that stuck the blond’s ears were the soft huffing of their breaths as they stood face to face in the darkness.

He cracked open his eyes and was surprised that he could see Mumbo’s face in the shadows, his vision had adjusted and while the details of the man’s face were still mostly hidden in the night, he could make him out.

“What were they called?”

“I know it’s silly, I--” Grian’s nervous rambling stopped as he realised what the other had asked. His brows creased together in a frown. “Wh-What?” He asked softly.

“What were they called?” Mumbo repeated calmly.

“Oh, umm, Lucian, I think one was called that and the other, I don’t think his name was said…”

“Bartholomew.”

“What?”

“The other man was called Bartholomew. What name did they say?”

Grian stared at Mumbo stunned, his eyes flicked over the features that he could make out and his breath left him as he settled on the other’s eyes, they were focused directly on him, an unwavering stare. “I… I think they said the name Hooler, but that’s…”

“Drake’s last name, yes. I knew he’d been speaking to them.” With that, Mumbo turned and continued to walk, muttering something softly and under his breath. Grian shook his head as confusion continued to cloud his mind, he was sure he should’ve been used to the sensation by now, but he still couldn’t move past it.

“Mumbo, wait, what are you saying? I dreamt it, it can’t be real, right?” Grian asked as he sped to keep up with the other.

“Oh, my dear Grian, that is quite the opposite, can you tell me exactly what was said?”

“One said: The treaty can’t be fulfilled, then the other said that Hooler had assured him that it would, they then both said that he was a blithering idiot and then they said that Lucian’s daughter had birthed a male and continued by saying that the other’s son refused to speak with them.”

“Is that exactly what was said?” Mumbo asked as he stopped again, although this time as he paused in walking, his hands bracketed Grian’s shoulders as the other held him still.

“Y-Yes, well I am paraphrasing but yeah.”

At that, Mumbo’s head flicked back as a deep barrelling laugh echoed from deep within him. “Fantastic!” He hooted. “Oh brilliant, I am very glad of that, let’s get you inside and make some supper.”

“Wait, Mumbo, I’m still confused. I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“You will, Grian, oh you shall understand all soon. I will arrange for you to work with me tomorrow, but for now I bet you are hungry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo! So, there weren't many clues or hints in this chapter, but the next one will be very fun and I am excited to write it, soon we shall be seeing what the point to this story is :D 
> 
> Anyhoo, as always, if you enjoyed this chapter, then please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts!


	8. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Here is another chapter, I hope you all like it!
> 
> The story will start speeding up a little now, also if anything seems confusing in this chapter it will be all explained in the ensuing chapters and updates :D Don't worry!
> 
> There aren't any specific warnings that need to be seen, so you can read safely.
> 
> So, happy reading!

Hissing and crackling, the fire roared beside Mumbo as he reclined against the soft armchair, his muscles unwound and relaxed as he let a hiss of tension escape his lips. His eyes slipped closed as his fingers gripped the crystal glass tumbler, the pads of his digits were warmed by the thick liquid that sloshed within. 

“How did supper go?” 

The Swedish accent pricked like a needle to a bubble, Mumbo’s brows twitched softly but his eyes remained shut as a smile curled around his lips at the sound of his old friend. His free arm stretched out as he gestured to the chair opposite. 

“Quite well, he enjoyed it.” Mumbo replied as he listened to the rustling of Iskall’s clothes as he sat on the proffered chair. The moustached man’s lip twitched as he heard the tinkling of glasses and the thick glooping of warm liquid as Iskall poured himself a drink from the decanter between them.

“Did he…” Iskall paused as he took a sip, his face crinkled with an expression of thought, Mumbo peaked across at him before a stream of breath shattered across his teeth.

“Mention my lack of consumption?” He finished Iskall’s hesitated question before he steadied a strong stare at the man, his eyes ran over the other’s features before they resettled on Iskall’s pupils as the Swede nodded silently. “Yes, he did, but I explained that I wasn’t hungry.”

At the statement, Iskall’s head fell back as he laughed, each lilting tone seemed to mock the folly that glittered through Mumbo’s prior excuse to Grian. Mumbo’s brow raised ornately as he steadied an amused glare at the other man. “Care to elaborate on the humour you find? I don’t seem to get it.”

Iskall wiped the moisture from his eyes as he sobered, a stray hiccup of giggling still rocked his shoulders as he began. “I think you’re the most hungry out of all of us.”

At the statement, Mumbo’s head reclined as he gave a soft breathy snicker. Of course, Iskall was correct, there was hardly ever a time when his age-old friend didn’t understand him, or correctly guessed his state. 

The fire clicked and cracked, sputtering as it fed on a piece of wood that Iskall had thrown into it’s flaming maw, it’s gurgle of satisfaction was made known as the two men reclined together, their thoughts were the silent soundtrack to the room. 

“Hooler was only listening to --”

“I know.” Mumbo cut the other off as he levelled a stare at the man, Iskall nodded his head in a way that could have meant anything. “I know who Drake was listening to, but he was mine, made by myself entirely.” At the statement, Iskall’s brow crinkled as they met in a frown.

“But, if that’s the case, then how did he --”

“That is the exact point that is bothering me, Iskall. He should have been following my every command.”

“Mumbo, that’s dark magic, it’s the only thing that could have done such a thing.”

“Come now, do you honestly think my father would be above necromancy? We are all aware of the lengths he took with my mother.” Mumbo huffed out as he glared pensively at the portrait of his father that still hung looming over the mantle. “But he is wrong, I do not believe in what he does.”

“But the prophecy, Mumbo, he was one of the penmen, it’s centred around him.”

“I know, but I disagree with it, I believe this could be done a different way.”

“How?”

Mumbo gave a soft chuckle of knowing as he gave a soft wink to the other. “The townsfolk are correct with some of their legends about us.” Mumbo hummed as his fingers steepled below his chin. “I do think it’s time to move on to the next stage with our dear, Mr Grian.”

“And the prophecy?”

Mumbo glanced towards the Swede as he gently tapped the side of his own nose before he gave another wink and opened his mouth to speak, although the sounds that escaped between his lips were dark and echoing, they wrapped around each word that slipped from him. 

“The fourlegged man stands before me, fierce in tongue and strong is he. I shall drop to my knee and pray for thee, all while I beg the other is not thirsty.”

* * *

_ Foggy darkness loomed about him as his feet slapped against the ground with each sprinting step. His eyes were wide in panic as his adrenaline thrummed through his veins. He could hear the beast panting, it’s ragged breath blew a bluster of warm breath over his bare and naked form as he frantically staggered to clamber away. _

_ Across the horizon, his eyes fell on a small cottage, it stood alone, like a lonely tombstone in a barren graveyard. Grian’s heart seemed to thrum with glee as he centred his panicked stare at it, keeping the thing in his sights as he padded up the steps before slamming his body through the wooden door. _

_ Warmth and firelight bathed him as he staggered into the sitting room, hurling his body around, Grian threw the door shut and locked it before he twisted around to face the owner of the home. _

_ “Gri?” Ren’s voice echoed from behind a tall backed chair, Grian frowned with confusion as he stepped towards the hidden man. He’d visited his cousin’s cottage several times and had never seen a chair quite like the one before him.  _

_ “Ren, there’s a thing… A creature, it was chasing me. We need to go, call the police.” Grian howled out as he paced before the other. When he received nothing but silence, he whirled around and frowned at the man. “Ren! We can’t just sit here, we have to do something!” He screamed out. _

_ “No, we don’t. You don’t. Just relax, succumb to it. Do as it wishes and you will be safe.” _

_ “It’s got sharp teeth and claws! I’d be shredded, not safe. We need to call for help!” _

_ “Calm now, you don’t understand the situation.” _

_ Grian’s brow pulled together as he screamed again in frustration. “What couldn’t I understand about a dangerous animal?!”  _

_ “Grian?” A soft deep tone sounded from the kitchen as Mumbo’s voice curled through the house. The blond twisted around to face the other although what he saw wasn’t the Mumbo that he remembered.  _

_ This man, his skins as soft and silky, still just as pale but it was completely unblemished and perfect. His viridescent eyes shone with a life that he had never seen before, they were almost as bright as refined emeralds, his hair was smooth and neat, it was so luscious and his moustache was neatly styled. This Mumbo was the very definition of excellence. _

_ “Ren is right.” The man spoke, and while Grian was almost certain the two had delved into full insanity, he could hardly keep himself from wanting to be closer to the pale-skinned man. _

_ “How could he be right?” _

_ “That beast, the hungry, angry creature, it is struggling to escape. You’ve trapped it, you need to allow it to get out.” _

_ “It is out!” Grian whimpered as he shuffled forward, a tear of frustration slipped down his cheek as he fell into Mumbo’s arms. “He is out.” _

_ “No, he isn’t. Grian, you need to free him.” _

_ “Why? He’s dangerous?” Grian asked as he pushed his face deep into the clothes that hung off the taller of the two.  _

_ “Yes, you are correct, but he is you.” _

Grian’s eyes flicked open as he sat bolt upright, his chest heaving and his skin wet with sweat. He glanced around himself in a panic before he slumped back down, resting his head atop his pillow. 

_ It was just a dream, not real.  _

_ I’m safe, I’m at the Jumboline manor, I’m in my room, I’m okay. _

* * *

“Together they rein, side by side, two brothers on banshees they ride. A siren call and a gargoyle sing, the two will feast on our king.” Mumbo fell silent as he stared at Iskall, waiting.

A deathly scream shattered through the house, it scraped down each wall and blistered through each corridor. 

“It’s begun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? How was it? :D
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it is a little shorter than the others, but I wanted to get an update out to you all asap! 
> 
> If there is anything that you read that seem familiar, some lore that has been used for this story is inspired by Skyrim's lore, I have also based a few characters off of the BBC Dracula series and also Hannibal Lecter from Silence of The Lambs :D
> 
> As always though, if you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts!
> 
> There will be some more updates to stories soon, I have read all of your comments and I cannot begin to say how much all of your support mean to me! I do try and reply to each and ever one of them too, so I am sorry if I haven't got to yours yet :D


	9. Viri Sanguinum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So here is another update, it came much sooner than I thought it would, but I think I'm really starting to get excited for a lot of the build up to be over, it's coming to a big climax and then we will be on our way to yet another great build up :D so we best strap in folks, this is gonna be a bumpy ride. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter :D

The blazing light of the morning sun shone through the gap in the curtains as it glared on Grian’s restless form. His eyes widened almost instantly as he straightened up in bed. It was as if there was a weight deposited on his chest, for he could barely take a full inhale as frantic gasping plagued him.

A song that was too loud, too abrasive, too painful shocked his ears as the sound of life reached him. Birds seemed to screech out their tweeting, a distant fly seemed to hum like a man beside him and he was almost certain he could hear the last few traces of words in a conversation as if there were people stood just outside his bedroom door. 

Grian peered across to the door and as he did so, he had to muffle a whimper of agony as the light around him seemed almost unbearable, he could see the dust particles perfectly and if he narrowed his eyes in a focused stare on the door, he’d be able to see the gaps between the grain in the wood.

A musky stench filled the air around him as his nose ached with each new scent, the fragrance of cotton, the aroma of the beating blood that gushed through his own veins and strangely, he could smell the water that sat in a jug atop his bedside table. 

Grian whimpered as his senses almost exploded with an agony he’d never experienced, his hands cupped at his face as he shrunk into a ball and pulled his knees up to his chest like a fetus. 

Although, as he touched his heated cheeks, the feel of his own skin seemed to almost burn with over sensitised madness. He could smell the sweat in the creases of his palms, could hear the cartilage in the joints of his phalanges crunch with each movement, and he was certain that if he peered at his ten digits, he would see each undetectable blemish that marred them.

_ What is happening to me?  _

_ It hurts, it all hurts so much… _

Grian’s teeth clenched as he shifted to perch on the end of his bed, but when his bare feet brushed against the soft rug below, shocks of electrical nervous pulses shot through his legs like static. 

The entire room was both too bright and too cluttered, although he could remember thinking how nicely decorated it was, he could barely stand to see such furnishings cluttering his vision. There were too much to focus on, too many distractions. 

Grian’s eyes clenched shut once again and as they did, he heard the wet slap of his lids scraping over his eyeballs, the sound sent a shiver of disgust through his body as he trembled and heard each and every bone shake. 

Grian shook his head as he swallowed nausea and forced the sounds and sights from his overstimulated mind, as he did so, the shocking white of paper caught his attention as he glanced to a folded note that sat innocently atop his bedside table. 

He grasped at it, all the while cringing at the feel of the paper in his grasp. He unfolded it and read aloud. 

“Dear Grian, I am certain that you have many questions, please wait until the fall of night before joining me at the halfway house. I apologise, but I will not be available until our meeting, but you will not be alone, should you need anything Iskall will be downstairs throughout the day. Sincerely Yours, Mumbo.”

Memories of Drake’s screams filled his mind as he read the note, a strange essence of fear slithered through his chest. 

_ What is going to happen to me? _

_ We had a deal… He can’t -- no. _

Grian huffed out an irritable sigh as he pushed away the anxiety that surrounded the halfway house. Mumbo wouldn’t put him in such a dangerous situation, it would be too risky, too many people knew Grian was staying there, if he were to disappear, Ren would notice.

A small smirk curled at his lips at the thought of Ren’s tireless efforts to make everyone pay for Grian’s disappearance. He was safe.

A smile lit across his features as he zipped up his jeans and pulled a shirt over his head before he padded across to the door. He was completely out of harm’s way. He depressed the handle before stepping out into the hall.

A wave of new smells washed through his sinuses, his eyes fluttered shut as he processed each scent before he gave a sigh and stepped away from his room, shutting the door behind him. 

Iskall was downstairs, the man who’d dragged poor Drake away against his will. Grian grimaced at the memory before he shook his head and twisted away from the staircase. If he could make the time move elsewhere, then he would, away from Iskall.

Grian began walking, to where he hadn’t a clue, but as he ambled through the upper halls and passed by a litany of different doors, there was one that stood out. 

“And this is the library, I’m sure you’ll be spending the majority of your time here.” Drake’s words echoed through his memories as if they were shouted down a well, the syllables ricochetted about the walls of Grian’s mind as the man reached forward and let himself into the room.

At once, scents of aged books and a mountain of dust swelled in his senses as Grian’s nose almost thrummed with the smells of years gone by. His eyes fell closed as he clung to the doorframe, unable to contain the strangled over sensitised whine that escaped his throat.

“Jesus Christ.” He gasped. “What the fuck is happening to me?” He huffed out before he gathered his bearings and pushed away from the door. 

Mountains of bookcases lined the room from floor to ceiling, and littering across the bookshelves were rainbows of knowledge, strange book spines and ordinary ones. Some were penned by authors that Grian knew rather well and others were created by men and women he’d never heard of. 

One, however, struck his eye. It had a ragged leather cover with stray dogeared corners, it’s pages were yellowed and well used and there was no writing or decoration on the spine or the face of it.

Grian delicately plucked the novel down from its place on the shelf before the shuffled across and to the window where a small desk and chair stood, he placed the book down before taking his seat and flicking through the pages.

Each word within the book seemed to have been written by hand, from the dramatic calligraphy that he saw in the writing, he assumed that it whoever the author was, they’d used an inkwell and quill. 

His brows furrowed as he continued to leaf through until he stopped dead on a word that struck his curious eye. “Crypt.” He skimmed through the page as he read each word aloud. 

“Lord Jumboline had instructed us to build a large structure at the far end of his land, ‘Atlas Orbis iste locus quietis scriptor.’ Thankfully, I’m the only one in the village who can speak such tongues. It means ‘the moon’s resting place.’ I think it best that the village are unaware of what they’re building, except I know that this is most definitely the design of a crypt, one of a long lost past, a civilisation that no longer walks our plane of existence.” Grian flipped to the next page.

“But, Lord Jumboline can only know of these designs if he himself had once walked with these ancient builders. This leads me to believe that he is one of the Alukah, I say the word in the closest form in Hebrew tongue, for if I speak it in my native language, I fear that others may grow to fear him, may grow to destroy him. I seek to gain nothing but his trust and bestow him with my loyalties. The Hooler name will continue for generations and of those generations, we will be in a bargain with the Lord Jumboline, our viri sanguinum leader!”

Grian pulled away from the journal before he dropped it on the table, the thoughts and memories of Drake’s ancestor leached through Grian’s imagination as he tugged his phone from his pocket and began to search the strange terms up. 

His eyes widened as he read the results.

_ Bloodthirsty leader… _

_ Vampire.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed it, if I messed up any of the translations, please don't be upset. I don't speak Hebrew or Latin, I just used google translate. So if you do speak either of those languages and would like to let me know how to actually say what I wanted in them, then please let me know :D that would be really appreciated. 
> 
> Any questions you have about Grian and his strange state, I will be addressing it and explaining it in the next chapter :D don't worry!
> 
> Anyway, as always, if you enjoyed this chapter, then please leave kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D


	10. A Siren Call And A Gargoyle Sing, The Two Will Feast On Our King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I have read through all of your recent comments and I cannot explain how grateful I am for everyone's support! I wanted to dedicate this chapter to some of my readers and it's so hard to pick just one... So I was wanting to give a shout out to two of the people who've recently commented :D 
> 
> CupcakesAndFanfic and infernyan
> 
> Thank you both for your amazing comments ^.^ 
> 
> I also want to just say that although I may not have shouted you out in this chapter, I still really appreciate your comments and I will be doing more shoutouts as this story continues, so I could still shout any one of you out in the next chapter ^.^

Icy breath huffed out through the grounds of the estate, it’s frosty exhale gently grazed along the blades of grass that were littered across the soil, it’s cool hand carded its fingers through the emerald strands and let them tremble under its touch as they swayed softly in the breeze.

Mumbo’s eyes trailed along each wave as the wind gusted through the estate, the trees danced behind him and the whistling of the air through the branches was accompanied by the dull muffled voices that echoed through the walls of the halfway house. 

A dull crunch of a footstep against gravel tore Mumbo’s attention to the man before him as Grian’s silhouette faded through to the foreground. His golden blond locks shifted under the touch of the cool night zephyr, his cerulean irises glinted beneath the watchful gaze of the waning moon and as Mumbo’s wandering eyes met Grian’s face, his welcoming expression fell. 

Grian’s mouth was set in a hard line, his features were stony and locked, all the while his glare was shimmering with something akin to fury. “Grian, we-” 

“No.” Grian’s hand shot through the space between them as he extended his index finger, Mumbo’s jaw clicked shut as his eyes widened at the sudden strength that was simmering beneath that soft exterior he’d grown so accustomed to. 

“Are you okay?” Mumbo asked as a barely contained smirk curled across his lips. This was what he’d been waiting for, this was what he’d wanted. It was happening and he could hardly contain his excitement. 

Grian’s eyes faded to crescents as a sardonic chuckle filtered from his lungs, he shook his head before he rallied the stern stare back to the taller man. “I am absolutely fine, the best that I’ve been in a long time, actually.” Grian huffed out before he raised a blond brow at the other. 

“Then, pray tell, what this…” Mumbo paused as he thought for the word. “ _ Attitude _ is about?” Grian snickered at that before answering. 

“Vampire.”

A cold puddle welled at the base of his stomach as a feel of dread coursed through his veins. “Wh-What?” He stammered. “How do you…?”

“How do I know?” Grian asked, interrupting the other. “In the library, there’s a journal.” He reached an arm around and behind himself, Mumbo’s eyes followed the hand as he craned his neck to peak before Grian pulled out a worn old book that had no title or author printed across the cover. The same leather-bound book that Mumbo remembered from his childhood. 

His brow slackened as a stony mask took place over his once smug expression. “Hooler’s Journal.” Mumbo muttered out coldly.

“Yeah!” Grian exclaimed as he began to leaf through the pages dramatically, the paper crinkled with each of his movements before he stopped on the one page he’d read mere hours before.

“Lord Jumboline can only know of these designs if he himself had once walked with these ancient builders. This leads me to believe that he is one of the Alukah.” Grian gave a voice to those words that had been inscribed upon those pages of the journal so many centuries ago. 

The pages of the book were snapped closed as Grian slid it back behind him once more and brought his arms across his chest, folding them. “I’m going to give you a minute to explain yourself before I walk away from this place. Vampires don’t exist, but this is some fucking elaborate joke…” 

The silence that fell between the two could have screamed a thousand words but it was sliced through as Grian’s eyes rolled and he gave an impatient drawl, counting down from 60.

“You are mistaken.” Mumbo jumped to speak, Grian’s eyes widened then and he opened his mouth to retaliate, but Mumbo raised his own hand to pause him. “No, I have 58 seconds left and I plan on making the most of them.” He hummed before continuing. 

“Hooler was right, my grandfather was a vampire and in turn so was my father and so am I. My entire ancestral line were all vampires. It’s what the Chagford legend is foretelling, it’s always been about my family, has always been hinting at our bloodlust.” As Mumbo spoke, he couldn’t help but notice the strange expression of fear creeping across Grian’s features. 

“So, Hooler was right? You’re a vampire. You’ve always been a vampire…” Grian gave a breathy humourless laugh as he took a step away from the man before him. “The pale skin, the not eating… It all makes sense. So what? You brought me here to drink my blood? To play with your food?”

“No, you don’t under-”

“Ren was right.”

Those three words struck something deep within Mumbo as rage began to bubble and stew beneath his skin, his eyes shimmered with barely concealed fury as he took a step forward. “He was wrong.” He growled. “I never intended for you to find out this way, but,  _ Mister Grian _ … You leave me no choice.”

Grian’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? You have a choice! What are you doing?”

Those frantic words fell on deaf ears as Mumbo straightened to his full height and began to recite the words of the prophecy, his voice boomed at a deeper resonance than it ever had before in Grian’s presence as his mouth formed around the age-old words that escaped him.

* * *

“Strong in thigh and deft in fang, a howling thing - like death, it rang.”

The words fell from Mumbo like a waterfall, their utterance struck a memory that lurked deep in the recesses of Grian’s mind as they seemed to enter his ears and strike each nerve that ran through his body.

“Hell’s gate has since been open, and from it, a demon has been stolen,”

“Mumbo, stop!” Grian cried out as each letter seemed to sting at his skin, as if the taller man were pouring acid over his head. Grian whimpered out in agony. He glanced down to his hands and screamed in terror as his skin began to smoke.

“The fourlegged man stands before me, fierce in tongue and strong is he.”

Grian howled out as he fell to the floor, his knees buckled as wave after wave of white-hot pain fluttered through his nerves, like delicate fingers plucking at harp strings, it felt as though his body was being slowly stripped, piece by piece.

“I shall drop to my knee and pray for thee, I beg that the other is not thirsty.” At that, Mumbo dipped down and knelt beside the balled up smaller man, his eyes were locked on him and while Grian screamed, he could still feel that cool gaze as if it were a soothing balm to his overheated skin. 

”Together they rein, side by side, two brothers on banshees they ride.”

Grian trembled as his body shook with each word. His hair thickened and spread rampantly across his body, his bones creaked and cracked as if they were being broken one at a time. The tear of clothing distantly rang in his ears as his body transformed and grew in proportions it was never meant to accommodate. 

“Please stop!” He whimpered, although the sound of his voice had changed, it was alien to his own ears. It was deeper, more gravelly and all the more frightening. 

A tear cascaded down his furry cheeks as his skull began to ache, his jaw broke and then his nose followed. His hands reached up to cup his head, but as the pads of his paws touched his face, he felt a snout grow and push apart his palms. 

“A siren call and a gargoyle sing, the two will feast on our king.” 

* * *

Too bright, the moon was too bright, the air was too cold. Grian could hear everything, where his senses were once amplified, they had sensitised again although it was now tenfold. His eyes fluttered open as he pushed himself to stand.

He glanced down and a gasp tugged from his throat at what he saw. His body was not his own, it no longer resembled the soft tanned form that he was so used to being reflected in the mirror.

Where he once had short limbs, they had doubled in size and were bent in odd contortions, hair had sprouted where there weren’t any before. His hands and feet had been replaced with paws, large talons extended from each digit and he was sure that what he resembled was now that of fairytales. 

He was a lycan. 

His eyes lifted to the moon and as his gaze connected with the cool silvery light, a deep rumbling and involuntary howl escaped his chest as he screamed up in tormented agony. The sound that broke out of his chest was one of mourning, one of fear and one of anger. 

His sorrowful stare then fell on the man before him, who was now much shorter than he remembered. “M-Mumboooo…” His strange elongated snout struggled to form the name and it came out in a strangled gargling growl.

“Grian. You’re finally one with your true self. Welcome, to the new world.” Mumbo hummed as he pointed towards the building behind him. “Your first meal awaits you.”

The vampire twisted on his heel and pushed open the door as he stepped inside the halfway house. Grian watched the man disappear before he too followed. The scent of fresh blood stung his nose, iron twang tickled at his senses and where he once would have ran in disgust from such a scent, his throat ached and his stomach rumbled with hunger.

Men and women of all ages stood in stable-like cages, their eyes were sunken and hollow, their bones could be seen as their skin appeared to be thinly stretched over their skeletons. Thin hessian rags were draped over their body and two puncture marks could be seen on their necks, wrists and arms. 

As their tired and weak eyes lifted to meet Grian’s new body, their faces should have contorted to one of fear, but their lack of energy prevented them from doing so and instead low soft and pitiful whimpers escaped their throats as they shifted unsteadily to the back of their holdings. 

“This is my human cattle. They are the gifts that are bestowed to me from Chagford village. A deal if you will. Each year, they will gift me a new human, someone who has no ties, no friends or family. It’s unfortunate, but it is quite frequent that someone of that standard will wander into the village.”

“An’ in re’urn?” Grian’s rumbling and growling voice struggled to get the words out, but Mumbo seemed to understand his question. 

“In return, my family and I will protect them from other vampires, lycans and will not feed on their families.”

“‘S’wrong…” Grian huffed in a rumbling whine, the sorrowful sound gave voice to the wretched feeling that swirled in his chest, his eyes fell back to the human cattle as his brows pinched together. He felt bad for them.

Mumbo cocked his head. “I suppose you have yet to distinguish yourself from their masses. They are merely human, the cannot protect themselves, they are our food.”

Grian’s mind flickered to Ren’s face as a wave of anger rallied inside him, although before he could begin to voice his disapproval, Mumbo tapped his back soothingly.

“It is not my place to explain his situation. But he is not our food if that makes you feel any better?”

Grian watched the other suspiciously. Yes, while it did make him feel somewhat calmer, it brought about a flurry of new questions that pricked through his mind.

Mumbo smirked at the wolfman before he twisted around and pulled open a cage door, revealing none other than Drake, himself.

The man was but a distant memory of who he once was, his former suit had been replaced with the same hessian rags that the other donned and his hair was a mess as dirt clung to his face. 

“I feel no better use for this cretin than to serve as your first meal. A final service from him as he betrayed me.” Mumbo chuckled as he threw the man towards Grian. His paws caught Drake as he stared down at him.

“G-Grian! S-Sir! Please don’t! You’re not a monster, I know you’re not, please spare me! Don’t do it!”

“Enough with your whittling!” Mumbo yelled. “Grian, drink him dry! Use your thirst!”

Grian glanced up to the tall vampire before his eyes fell back to the trembling man in his grasp. He couldn’t hurt him, how could he? Drake was innocent, he was kind and… and… Food…

Grian’s mouth watered as drool began to drip from his jowls, his eyes were locked on the man in his hold, he didn’t want to hurt him, but the scent of the blood that ran through his veins stunk better than anything had before. It smelt delicious, like a treat he’d been waiting to taste for years. 

He… He didn’t want to… But he couldn’t help it. 

Grian’s eyes slipped closed as he dipped his head and opened his mouth. He could almost taste that sweet trickling nectar, his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he fangs grew ever nearer to Drake’s trembling neck.

“P-Please… Grian don’t.” 

That was the last thing the blond wolf heard before he latched his maw around the flesh of the man’s gullet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter :D It was really fun to write. If I've made any obvious mistakes, please let me know and also please let me know if any one of your hypotheses were correct :D 
> 
> And as always, if you enjoyed this chapter please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D


	11. The Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So here is a new update, I wanted to thank everyone who'd commented on this work so far, it has honestly brightened my day!
> 
> I've been told that my dog will have to be put down tomorrow and to be honest, I wasn't sure if I'd have been able to post a new update today, but after seeing everyone's nice comments, I began writing and it's made me feel a little better ^.^
> 
> Thank you all so much!
> 
> I'd like to shout out Dicerxll for their recent comment :D
> 
> If I haven't shouted you out, or mentioned you specifically, then I do still love your comment and it does mean so much to me :D I will be continuing to give shout outs ^.^

Nectar so sweet, the succulent liquid slithered over Grian’s tongue as he suckled where his mouth was latched to Drake’s neck. His supple flesh was gripped within the wolf’s maw and as he slurped and swallowed each drop of Drake’s life essence the blond could hardly bring himself to feel remorse. 

A soft whimpering whine still echoed through the halfway house as the limp man was drained of his blood, the other human cattle moaned along with him in a sorrowful chorus. Whether they were aware of what was happening before them, or if they’d lost too much blood to be coherent, Grian didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if he cared either.

His teeth dug deeper in the sinewy muscle that lined the man’s neck, they scraped through flesh and crunched as they tapped against the bone. “He’s done.” Mumbo’s voice sounded so distant to the lycan, it was almost as if he were floating underwater. 

“Grian, he’s done.” The vampire muttered once more, but Grian couldn’t bring himself to let go of his meal. “Grian. Don’t drink any more.” Mumbo continued as he stepped forth and gripped at the fur that covered Grian’s thick forearm. 

As the other man drew nearer and reached out, Grian’s pointed ears stirred and flicked, their sensitive receptors heard Mumbo’s boot crunch against the ground and as his eyes opened, he saw the man was less than a foot away from his meal. 

_ NO! Mine! Mine! Mine!  _

Grian felt the growl build before he heard it himself, he detached from the dead body that hung limp in his arms. His eyes shone a distant yellow as they glowed with a predatory warning, his jowls lifted as he bore his sharp teeth and snarled at the other.

Mumbo’s eyes widened at that before he too unleashed his own elongated canines in a cat-like hiss. The two demonic creatures held each other in their angry gazes before the part of Grian that still resembled something that was vaguely human took a hold of the blond wolf’s mind. 

His eyes fell to the thing in his arms and in an instant, he pushed it away as he scrambled to back out of the building. His ears flopped back and pressed against his skull as his brows drew together.

A soft horrified whimper scratched out of his chest as he watched Drake’s lifeless form flop to the ground. He glanced up to Mumbo, afraid. The moustached vampire’s arms were outstretched as he reached for the other, moving placatingly. 

“It’s okay, the first feed is always the strongest. It’s good that you stopped. If you’d continued and exceeded what the body had to give it can kill you.” Mumbo muttered as he elegantly stepped over Drake and sidled up beside the wolf. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll return to your human form soon enough. I do think, however, that you need to clean up before the meeting later.” At that, Mumbo twisted on his heel and exited the halfway house. “Come along, Grian.” He called over his shoulder.

* * *

Clear, hot water bathed across his skin as Grian dunked his head into the basin, he pulled away with a hiss of satisfaction, a small smile curled across his lips as he felt the warm droplets skate down the back of his neck and across his body, leaving thin trails of water in their wake. 

His eyes fluttered open and locked on the figure in the mirror. It gleamed with a picture that he was so used to seeing, except there was one stark difference between the sight before him and the many memories that existed in his mind. While the fur and wolf-like features had faded away to make room for his human hide, his eyes retained the same ochrous glow. 

He glared at the unnatural colour, distantly, he wished for them to return to the cerulean he had grown up seeing, hoped for them to be his own eyes and not those of a beast. Although, the more he stared, the more they seemed to glimmer, mocking him, taunting him. His brow furrowed as his teeth were revealed in a snarl. 

His face wrinkled as he continued to growl at the reflection, it growled back, a perfect copy. A tension swelled through his chest as his fury turned to rage, his skin darkened slightly, it was as if a coat of fur lingered just beneath it. The sight of the wolf hidden only a layer below his human skin seemed to be the last thing that Grian saw before a flash of movement shocked passed him.

Pain glittered through his knuckles as a soft trickle of warm wetness glided off the injured skin. He glanced up to the mirror once more, only to see that the glass had been shattered. Grian’s eyes widened as he stared down at his hand. Dark leathery skin covered the appendage and long blackened talons extended from each digit, a cool fear prickled through his mind. He gave a soft helpless mewl before he clenched his eyes shut.

_ It’s just… Just my imagination. I’m fine. This is fine… _

He gave a stabilising breath before he peaked back down to his hand. Supple tanned skin, now freshly healed, greeted him. 

_ Oh, thank Christ! _

Without wasting another moment, Grian reached across and plucked his shirt from the radiator before he tugged it over his head. He gave himself a last once over, lamenting for a second as his eyes remained the same shade of ochre before he twisted on his heel and reached for the door.

The lock on the bathroom door clicked as he unlatched it and stepped out into the corridor. Crimson splotches littered the floor and caught his vision. He glanced down and as he did so, a sickening cocktail of fear and shame rallied within him. 

Dotted across the ground were bloody stamps, each one was a paw print but as his eyes trailed across the pathway, the marks slowly morphed into that of humanoid feet. He shook the mixed feeling from his mind as he turned to follow the path back down to the foyer. They lead directly from the front door. 

Mumbo had told Grian to meet him downstairs when he’d finished cleaning the gore from his body, although as the blond glanced from left to right, from one wall to the other, he couldn’t see a single soul. 

Muffled voices pricked at the far reaches of Grian’s hearing, they echoed across the large and cavernous foyer. His eyes followed to where the sounds had come from until his sights landed on an open door. Flickering golden light streamed from the room and as he focused on it, the voices seemed to grow more prominent. 

He followed the sounds until he came to a stop outside the sitting room. The ornate coving slid up past the walls and lead to a tall, arched ceiling, a chandelier hung from the highest point. Gentle decorative swirls shimmied down to the pantings that hung atop the walls. Mumbo sat in one high backed chair of three, he occupied the one that faced the entrance to the room. 

The vampire’s eyes were focused on someone who was sat in the opposite chair, but it was turned just so and from where he stood, Grian couldn’t make out who the other person was. Both sat beside a roaring fire that sputtered and spat as it chewed the fresh log it’d been fed. Between the two and opposite the mantle stood the third chair, it was empty.

A small table stood elegantly in the centre of the crowded seats, and atop that was a decanter, the crystal glass held a shimmering crimson liquid. Mumbo’s fingers were curled around a glass of the strange drink and judging by the shadow that was cast of the stranger, they too sipped at the same fluid.

Grian hesitantly stepped into the room, his eyes were fixed on the hidden person. As he approached, a voice that wasn’t Mumbo’s filled the place. Its sound was familiar, it was a voice that Grian had heard countless times over. From the dictation to the pronunciations, the voice that Grian heard was someone he knew very well.

As he rounded the corner and finally peered at the other, his eyes widened to that of saucers as the identity was revealed. Ren was relaxed against the back of his chair, one leg crossed over the other. He donned a three-piece suit, his hair was neatly combed and his face was finely shaven. The man appeared more well-groomed than Grian could ever recall seeing him. 

Grian opened his mouth to greet his cousin, but before a sound could escape his lips, Ren spoke.

“Really? I warned you against this.” Ren snarled as he gestured to Grian with a waving arm. The blond stopped then, struck still as he watched his cousin fulminate. “I specifically asked for you not to…” He shook his head as a sigh stuttered from his chest. Ren cleared his throat before continuing. “The townsfolk are already talking, how am I supposed to cover this up?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way, Ren, you often do.” Mumbo’s smooth voice cut in then, he lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip before he glanced across to the blond. A small smile stretched over Mumbo’s crimson-stained lips. He nodded across to the third seat, inviting the smaller into the conversation.

Grian followed Mumbo’s gesture and quietly perched on the edge of the cushion, he opened his mouth to address his cousin, but Ren continued as if Grian wasn’t there at all.

“I warned you about this!” He slammed his hand against the arm of the chair as he exploded at Mumbo in a shout. “I never wanted it to happen. Not to  _ him _ .” Ren spat out the last part of his sentence before he took a thoughtful sip of his own drink. 

As he swallowed the mouthful, his eyes flicked from Mumbo to Grian, as if surveying two naughty school children. There was no sign of affection, love or anything other than a vast wave of disappointment. His lips thinned as he leant back in the chair. “I don’t approve in the slightest.” He muttered quietly.

Mumbo gently set his glass down on the small table, beside the decanter, before he slapped his hands together and smiled across to the blond. “I would expect nothing more.” He replied to the brunette before he pushed himself to stand. “I do apologise, Grian, I’d offer you a drink, but I feel you’ve had far too much blood for today.”

Grian’s eyes flicked across to the decanter and immediately he felt his face pale as images of the moaning human cattle rattled through his memories. “It’s…?” He whimpered before his stare flicked across to Ren’s own glass. “Ren, that’s blood!” He warned but his cousin merely watched him for a moment before his attention was once again directed to the vampire. 

“So he has fed?” Ren asked, but when he received no answer, he held his face in his hands. “Oh for fuck sake! I suppose you’re about to offer him up to  _ them  _ now?”

At the question, Mumbo twisted around and glared at the brunette. Grian almost fell off his chair at the ferocity that glowed in the man’s eyes. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

“Well, you went this far. All against my wishes.” Ren countered. 

“True enough, but I would never --”

“Stop!” 

Mumbo and Ren halted their argument and both pairs of eyes were directed to the blond. Grian paused for a moment as he pushed himself up from his chair and moved between the two. “Stop talking about me as if I’m a child. I’m here, I exist and I’m a fucking adult! Stop.” He growled. 

Ren’s stare softened as he moved to reach for Grian but before he could touch him, the blond shifted away. “No, you don’t get to do that! You’ve been keeping far too many secrets, the only one who’s been the least bit honest with me is Mumbo.” 

In the corner of his eyes, Grian was almost certain he saw a sharp scarlet tainting the taller man’s cheeks as he glanced down to his feet. “Th-Thank you.” Mumbo muttered out softly. Grian rounded on him. 

“Oh, no, don’t thank me yet. I’ve still got many things to say to you.” He growled before he twisted back to Ren.

“What the fuck is going on? Why are you drinking blood, and how the holy hell did I just turn into a fricking werewolf out there?!”

“Lycan.” Both Mumbo and Ren corrected him in sync. 

Grian levelled an impatient stare at the two before finally, he let his eyes slip closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, staving off the beginnings of a tension headache. 

After a moment of almost unbearable silence, Grian moved to speak once more, but before he could utter a word, Ren began to explain.

“You’re a Lycan because it’s in our bloodline.” He muttered. Grian’s brow furrowed as he silently asked the other to elaborate.

“Your mum was one, my father was one and thusly so are we.” Ren sipped at his drink. “But, you’re slightly different than I am, I presented early and without the aid of…” 

He paused as his hand twirled in the air as if he was searching for the right phrase, “A prophecy.” Ren’s voice was smooth and soft as he spoke. His eyes were trained on the blond and his brows were pinched with concern, it was as if he was afraid that Grian might implode from the overload of information. 

“And that is the same for myself, as I explained to you earlier.” Mumbo chirped from his place beside the fire. When both cousins rounded their stare on him, the vampire ducked his head as he retreated back to silence and sipped at the blood-filled glass.

“Okay, I still don’t understand how I never knew about any of this… But what’s this prophecy foretelling? What’s the point?” Grian asked, his face still a warped expression of confusion.

“That is why it was so important for you to present, your first change had to be now. Or at least, that’s what my  _ father  _ and your grandfather thought.” Mumbo explained. 

_ “Lucian, such harsh words will not solve that your daughter birthed a male. Even if Hooler prooves to be as incompetent as his father, he is the only source of information we have.” _

The vision that had plagued him the day he’d found the crypt struck through his mind as small pieces of the puzzle slowly sank together. “The men in the crypt, that was them? My grandfather and your father?”

“Indeed.” Mumbo replied as if he’d spat out a wretched taste in his mouth, his lips curled down before he drank some more from his glass. 

Grian nodded quietly as he digested the information that was slowly being fed to him, he sat back down on his chair as he scraped his palms across his face. “So what’s the prophecy?”

At the answering silence, he glanced between the two. Ren’s eyes were wide as he anxiously stared at Mumbo, it was as if he were wordlessly requesting assistance. Mumbo gave a muted chuckle before he flicked his hand in a shooing motion. “He’s your cousin. I wouldn’t want to overstep my bounds again.” He snarled sarcastically as he gave a sadistic smirk.

Ren’s eyes shone with a fire of frustration before he gave a shake of his head, muttering something under his breath he turned back to Grian before he began to speak.

“The prophecy was made by Mumbo’s father and our grandfather.”

“Why?”

“The lycan aspect of your being has been awoken right in the middle of a war that’s been going for centuries. There are people who want our kind dead. Our grandfather and his father, Bartholomew and Lucian, both wanted you and Mumbo to…” Ren stopped then, his mouth clamped shut and as Grian watched him, Ren’s skin paled. He was almost afraid that his cousin might be ill.

At the ensuing silence, Mumbo glanced over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed on the queasy expression that lined Ren’s face, he gave an impatient huff before addressing Grian once more.

“Yes, both men wanted our bloodlines to be merged. They wanted to drain us of our combined blood and in turn, defeat the enemy.” Mumbo continued Ren’s explanation.

“Merge our…?” Grian paused then as he glanced between the two. “Wait, why do they need our blood? What’s so special about us?”

“We are the princes.” 

“The what?”

Ren sat forward then and reached out to rest a hand on Grian’s knee. “Mumbo is the rightful heir to the Vampiric thrown and as are you for the Lycans. You both have royal bloodlines.”

Grian could hardly take in what the two men were saying, his lashes fluttered before he gave a thoughtful, huffing breath. “Royal?” He asked quietly, the astonishment was quite plain in his voice.

“Not royal like Queen Elizabeth, but like a duke, almost. It’s difficult to explain in one sitting.” Ren huffed. “At the end of the day, they thought that having the two prince’s bloodlines merged, they’d be stronger, they’d both become…” Ren paused then as he glanced to Mumbo, hoping he had the word that he lacked. 

“Cross-breeds. They’d be both lycan and vampire alike, the same as the rest of us, but stronger than all.” Mumbo finished as he moved to take his seat once more.

“And that’s the prophecy? Turn me into a lycan just to then drink all my blood, along with yours?” Grian sputtered in disbelief.

“Yes.” Mumbo answered.

“But that’s insane!” Grian shouted, “It would kill us!” 

At Grian’s proclamation, Mumbo smirked as a deep rumbling chuckle rolled off his tongue. “And that, my dearest, Grian, is exactly why I have a different plan.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here we are, this was a much more speech orientated chapter, but I hope you all liked it all the same ^.^ if any of this doesn't make sense yet, I promise that it will soon :D we still have a long way to go before the finish, so please continue to be patient :D and thank you all for already being so patient with me :D
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed this chapter, then please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D


	12. Young Nights, Older Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, thank you so much for all of your support in answering to my author's note yesterday. I wasn't sure if I'd be in the mental state to write at all for the next few days, but I was sat down and then bombarded with a wave of new ideas for this story. 
> 
> So, while I'm very happy to present this chapter for you, I am also very aware that it may not match up to the standard that you're all so used to receiving from me. 
> 
> Either way, I do hope you all enjoy it. 
> 
> I'm not going to shout out anyone in this chapter, but instead, I'd like to dedicate it to my beautiful baby boy, who while he is gone, he will never be forgotten. This chapter is a special parting gift between me and my dog, Cooper. 
> 
> As you can probably tell, he is featured at the beginning of this chapter too.
> 
> Thank you all again for all your support and I hope that you all enjoy this chapter ^.^ There will be a new one again in the next couple of days ^.^
> 
> (By the way, those who commented on the authors note, I did read every single comment and I cannot put into words my appreciation for your support. However, I am so sorry for not replying. I didn’t realise that by deleting the authors note, that I would delete all of your comments, that’s my fault and I am sorry.)

A velvet veil of darkened and ashy shadow lingered across the manor grounds, it was as if it had been carefully draped over the forests that stood at the far reaches of the estate. A soft glow of firelight spilt out from the windows that peered into the sitting room.

The leaves ruffled and danced in the careful breath of the wind as the nightly breeze exhaled in a cool whisper. Lights silently twinkled from the heavens as the stars shone down. Like a yawning maw of silver, the moon hung low in the youth of the evening.

Grian shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cocked his hip as he stood only a few steps away from the porch, his arms wrapped around his chest as he stood and held himself as he watched the world around him.

Although it was the same as it always had been, the sights that met Grian’s gaze, were ever so slightly different. The night seemed less thick and he could peer out to the mouth of the forest, his eyes were stronger than they had ever been in the time he had spent living as a human. 

Soft panting broke through the quiet as a shock of white blustered passed Grian’s vision. A boxer dog trotted across the grass and as his claws tapped against the first pebble of the gravel that lined the path, he stopped. 

Grian watched the animal as it reciprocated his stare, the two were locked together in a silent and still hold. 

The door to the manor creaked and cracked as it was opened and a dim flurry of light slithered through the opening, a long glowing pillar stretched across the ground and washed across Grian, the dog’s eyes glowed as the light shimmered in its pupils. 

Grian glanced back. His eyes stung in the force of the brightness, his hand shot up to shield his vision and as he refocused, his sights fell on the man who stood in the doorway. Ren. Grian’s lip curled as he gave a snarling sneer to the man before he returned to staring where the dog had once been. 

Where the animal had stood, there was but an empty space. Grian’s pupils flicked across the estate, but as he saw nothing but the darkness, he let himself assume that the creature had fled before he’d been able to catch another glimpse. Grian let out a long soft sigh.

Crunches of stones rubbing against each other growled through the almost uninterrupted peace of the night as Ren walked tentatively towards the blond. Each footstep grew ever louder as Grian’s cousin grew ever nearer until the silence was once again restored and Grian could feel the body heat of the other man who stood by his side.

“How are you doing?” Ren’s voice broke through the thick blanket of soundlessness that had once existed around Grian. The younger lycan gave a snorting, derisive sneer and pointedly remained mute.

He could feel the withering stare of Ren’s eyes as the man watched him, a hesitant pause hung between them as the sound of clothes ruffled as Ren’s hand scraped over his own face. “I’m sorry, Gri…” Ren muttered and paused before continuing, “I couldn’t tell you, I mean, how could I have told you? You’d never have believed me.” Grian smirked sadly but continued to watch the faraway trees.

When the blond refused to answer, Ren began to speak again. “I wanted to tell you… But if I did, it could have put you in danger. I didn’t want this war for you, I thought… It was never your fight, I didn’t--”

“You lied to me, Ren.” Grian snarled his interruption. “Even if you wanted to keep me safe, even if you didn’t want me to get involved in this war, you shouldn’t have kept all this from me. It’s in my blood… It’s… It’s apart of me, a part that no matter what, I shouldn’t have been kept in the dark about it. You should’ve --”

“Should’ve what, Grian? Told you that you’re a lycan? A monster? Told you that no matter what you wanted, whether it be a normal human life or not, nothing you did would matter, that you were…” Ren’s voice croaked as he paused, the vicious response that had once been provoked died on his tongue as his head bowed. Grian turned then, his eyes blazed with a fire of fury that he could barely contain. 

But when Grian’s glare fell on his cousin he saw something, a thing that was so pure, so full of sorrow. His jaw clenched as his eyes slipped closed. His nostrils flared as he gave a huffing sigh and shook his head.

“No matter what your intentions were, we’re here now. This is happening now.” Grian uttered. “I’m involved and so are you and so is…” Grian glanced up to the door then because almost as if summoned, the stream of light returned as Mumbo joined the two cousins out in the darkness.

“It isn’t safe here.” Mumbo interrupted the lycans’ words as he stepped out to the porch and gently shut the door behind him. “I’ve sent Iskall for the carriage, he’s coming to pick us up.”

Grian’s gaze flicked to Ren before finally, they settled back to the vampire behind them. “Why isn’t it safe?”

Mumbo nodded towards the gates that separated the Jumboline estate from the rest of Chagford. “The village, the humans, they’ll figure something out, they put up with me, or they fear me. Either way, I don’t know how they’ll deal with knowing there’s not one but three unholy beasts in their midsts.”

“So, Ren’s coming too?” Grian asked, but his question was met with a tight-lipped smile as Mumbo shook his head.

“No.”

Grian’s brows furrowed as his eyes flicked between Ren and Mumbo. “But, you just said --”

“Ren has lived here for years, they don’t know about him. Not yet, anyway. He’s learned to control his thirst and he is a valued member of their community. You’re still a newborn, your thirst has only just begun and it will be insatiable. Soon, you’ll turn and there’s no telling how many people you’ll kill.”

Grian’s face paled at that as a thrilling shimmer of fear curdled through his stomach. “That… I’m going to turn again?”

“Yes, and you may not have the same composure as you did the first time.” Mumbo replied as his face morphed to a grave expression. “But, it’s not just the humans that I fear for.” Mumbo muttered as he glanced across the gardens and to the crypt that stood at the far end of the estate. “Lucian and Bartholomew still live, they’re in a state of rest but I don’t know when they’ll awaken.” Mumbo’s eyes returned to Grian’s before he continued, brows pinched in worry, “If they come here and find us together, then their prophecy will be fulfilled and we both die.” 

Mumbo’s words felt so heavy, so morbid as they fell upon Grian’s ears. The blond’s head dropped forward as he took a shaking breath. 

“But they won’t be strong enough to travel, so if we leave now, I can keep us both safe.” Mumbo stated finally. Grian gave a breathy laugh of disbelief as he rubbed the fear from his face. He glanced back to Mumbo before shaking his head. 

“And when they are, what then?” Grian asked.

“We fight. I have a plot of land in the highlands of Scotland. There are no humans for miles around it and we could go there.” Mumbo nodded. “I’ll teach you to contain your thirst and while we’re there, Ren can make contact with the different vampire and lycan clans. If we get enough of us together, we will all be stronger than our elders and together we stand a chance of winning the war.”

Grian opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, galloping hooves and creaking carriage wheels broke through their conversation as Iskall slowed the horse and cart to a stop. “Mumbo.” The Swede called. “We need to go, the night is still young but it won’t last forever.”

Grian’s breath hitched at the finality of the statement. His heart stuttered and in an instant, he regretted having ever carried ill-feeling towards his cousin. He glanced to Ren, but the older man was staring at their vampiric friend. Grian’s eyes joined Ren’s as he turned to watch Mumbo.

Mumbo gave a soft nod before he stepped forward and paused between the two lycans. He studied Ren for a moment before he shifted closer to Grian and dipped his head down to him. “I suggest you say your farewells and then join me.” He muttered briskly before he reached for the carriage door and clambered inside.

Grian watched the vampire disappear behind the black, wooden walls before his eyes fell on Ren once more. “Are you going to be alright?” He asked, his lips downturned, mournful at the little time they had together.

His cousin flashed a smile before rolling his shoulders in an attempt to appear confident, the act would’ve been amusing, if not for the gravity of their situation. “Of course. I’m more than alright, Gri.” He hummed as his hand rested on Grian’s shoulder. “Just stay safe for me.” 

Grian nodded at that, his eyes jumped between each of Ren’s but the older man huffed out a chuckle. “Next time you visit me, we are spending the entirety of your trip together… I won’t allow you to run off again.” He muttered jokingly before giving a wink.

The blond couldn’t keep the tears from welling in his eyes as he watched his cousin. There was a crater that had opened deep within his chest, it was a cavity, a black hole. A massless void, it seemed to consume him. 

With a soft hitch in his breath, the blond lept forward. It was as if he was a strip of iron and Ren was a magnet. Grian’s arms flung around his cousin as he engulfed him in a hug, his nose buried deep in the crook of his neck. “Please be careful.” 

* * *

The carriage rattled as it skirted across the roads, it swayed and bobbed with each revolution of the wheels. Ahead, the horses neighed and snorted in their bid to reach their destination as fast as possible. 

Grian rested against the cushions and stared out the curtained window. Although the darkness of night still loomed across the land that flew by, Grian could still clearly make out the trees and forests that surrounded them still. 

“I’m sorry about your cousin.” Mumbo’s deep resonance penetrated the silence that had befallen them since their departure. At the mention of Ren, Grian’s chest throbbed as his eyes slipped closed. 

Ren was the only family that Grian had left and he’d abandoned him to chase after the promise of legends and myths. Albeit, they revealed such wonder about himself and his family, the blond wasn’t certain if he’d ever truly forgive himself for such an act.

Grian twisted in his seat as he turned to face the vampire. A soft smile played on his lips as he dipped his head in acceptance. “It’s alright.” He mumbled quietly. Mumbo gave an appreciative smile before his eyes flicked out to the scenes that passed them by as Iskall drove.

“Mumbo.” Grian’s voice tugged at Mumbo and the man’s gaze resettled on the blond.

“Yeah?”

Grian’s brows furrowed as he thought of how to word his question. “Why was Drake sent to the halfway house? If he was human, why…” Grian paused then as he gathered his thoughts before continuing. “If he was human, why did he work for you?”

Mumbo’s lips tightened at the question. “I was waiting for you to ask me such things. I’d have thought you’d have seen it.” Grian frowned at that statement. 

“What do you mean, see it?”

“Blood memories. I thought you’d have seen it when you tasted his blood.” Mumbo explained but when Grian gave a silent shake of his head, Mumbo sighed and began to explain.

“When my grandfather established a presence in Chagford, he ordered the peasants to construct the crypt on our land. Hooler was the only one who figured out what he was building and he, in turn, connected the dots.” As Mumbo spoke, the images of the tales he was telling played out through Grian’s mind. His brows furrowed as he concentrated on the vampire. 

“Hooler cornered my grandfather and rather than threaten him or try to murder him, he requested a deal. He’d encourage the citizens of Chagford to donate humans for him to feed on and he would ensure my family’s secret would never be spilt only if, in turn, he received vampiric powers.”

“He bargained with other people’s lives?” Grian asked in disbelief, his voice soft and breathy. Mumbo gave a slow nod. 

“Yes, and for the most part, he got what he wanted. When a vampire feeds, we always dispatch a small amount of venom.” Mumbo explained, Grian gave a nod, and the vampire continued. 

“So my grandfather gave Hooler more venom than a normal feed would give, this made Hooler stronger, immune to all diseases, a slightly longer life and unfortunately left him with a slight allergy to sunlight.” Mumbo gave a sigh.

His thumb and forefinger pinched at the bridge of his nose. Grian’s brow furrowed as he watched the man, it was as if what he was about to say carried a disgrace that words could never begin to describe. “But the only term that my grandfather left out of that deal is that when a vampire gives a human those abilities without turning them into a vampire, the human is caught in the vampiric spell.”

“Vampiric spell?”

“They have no desire other than to serve the one who’d given their new gifts, they become a thrall. And with each generation in my family, we were paired with a generation of the Hooler family and we all got to create our own thrall. Mine was Drake. He should have followed every one of my orders… Except, he’d turned against me and deliberately visited my father. I realised the day that you passed out. He should have been clearing my study in preparation for my monthly feed, but instead, he was at the crypt.”

Grian’s brow furrowed at that as he ducked his head in thought. “But, if he was a ‘thrall’ then how did he turn against you? He shouldn’t have been able to.”

“That’s exactly what Iskall and I said.”

“Iskall? Is he…?”

Mumbo watched Grian then, a small smirk of amusement tugged at the corners of his lips as he gave a resolute nod. “A vampire? Yes. But he’s from a different family; we are just very good friends.”

“Right.” Grian hummed. “Is there anyone that isn’t a vampire or lycan?”

“Hooler wasn’t either.” Mumbo chuckled as he shrugged his shoulder. “Either way, Iskall has drawn the conclusion that dark magic was involved; it’s the only thing that’s strong enough to break a vampire-thrall bond.”

Grian smirked then. “But you don’t think so?”

“No, I think that my father enthralled Drake before I had the chance to as a child. I believe that Drake was his thrall all along.”

“Why?”

Mumbo shrugged his shoulders then. “I don’t know.” He mused softly. “I think maybe he knew I’d never follow his prophecy?” 

“But --”

“I will answer all your questions, but first, you need to rest.” Mumbo muttered. Grian frowned at that.

“I’m a lycan though?”

At that, Mumbo’s head fell back as a barking laugh bubbled from his chest. “Yes, you are and I am a vampire, but we all need to rest.” He told him, smirking. “Get some sleep. I will wake you when we arrive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you for reading this chapter, as you can all imagine, these last few days have been very hard for me and I've not been able to write. But, I'm very glad to be back into it again and allowing my creative side to take hold. It is a lovely break.
> 
> Anyhoo, if you enjoyed this chapter (apart from the horrendous quality >.>) please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts ^.^


	13. In Times Gone By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for missing the chapter upload yesterday, I had planned it all out and was halfway through writing it and I just couldn't finish it -- Not sure why, but either way it is done now and I think this may be my favourite chapter yet ^.^
> 
> I'd like to shout out Hewodragons for their constructive and amazing comment ^.^ I see exactly what they meant and I am so grateful for the effort and to some part the courage in their comment ^.^ Thank you for bringing things to light for me!
> 
> As ever, and I know a lot of you have said that I tend to thank you all too much, I can't thank you all enough for the support that you give for this story ^.^ I'm having so much fun writing this and I hope you're all having the same amount of enjoyment in reading it.
> 
> Either way, now the characters have reached Scotland, we will see the pace begin to slow back down as things come to light ^.^ Here there be lore!
> 
> As always, I hope you all enjoy this, happy reading!

“We’re here.”

Those words seemed to puncture through the dreamscape that had once filled Grian’s mind, it was as if Mumbo’s voice cut through his sleep like a knife through a membrane. Grian’s brow furrowed as he shifted in his slumber.

“Grian.” His name carried on Mumbo’s tongue shot a soft ache through Grian’s heart as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

Darkness swam through the carriage as it had done before he’d descended to slumber, a soft velvety material pressed against his cheek and it was then that Grian realised he was lying across the seat that Mumbo and he had shared. 

The blond glanced up from where he rested against Mumbo’s lap. The man’s suit-cladded torso stretched, thin and long until it reached the face that he’d become so familiar with. Mumbo’s pale, ornate features were shadowed and shaded as he stared down at the lycan. 

Mumbo’s eyes glowed the soft viridescent that had become so normal to Grian, his brows were furrowed ever so slight, as if curious. His pink, plush lips were pouted and for a moment, Grian caught himself staring at the soft pink hues that Mumbo’s mouth held. 

Grian’s cheeks flushed brightly at that and instantly he busied himself as he pushed back and straightened to a seated position. “I’m sorry.” He murmured as he peaked across to the other, but Mumbo merely smiled, a blushing rose tinted against his frozen cheeks.

“N-No worries,” Mumbo replied, his gazed fixed on the blond. 

Both vampire and lycan held each other there as their stares were fixed, their eyes flicked across their faces as a strange, pregnant silence fell upon them. The bubble popped, however as Iskall cleared his throat.

Mumbo’s pupils lifted to the space above Grian’s head as he smiled and nodded in gratitude to the Swede. “Yes, thank you.” He hummed before he once against glanced to Grian. “Shall we?” 

The blond peeped back to where the carriage door was held open and his breath hitched. Through the gaping entryway, a flurry of detailed architecture bloomed under his gaze. He shuffled across the seat before he stepped out of the carriage. 

Iskall had driven them inside a large cavernous building, a castle. The ceiling stood so high that it may as well have been the sky itself, the walls were so artfully decorated that each panel was a piece of art. Pictures hung and painted upon their canvas were portraits of Mumbo and his ancestral line. Each pair of piercing eyes landed upon Grian.

“Welcome, you are the first lycan to step foot on these grounds.” Mumbo smiled as he leant down to mutter in Grian’s ear. The blond shivered before he twisted to glance back to the vampire.

“No one else?” He asked, brows softly furrowed. Mumbo smirked then as he slowly shook his head.

“Not of your kind.” He clarified before he stepped forwards, his shoes clicked against the marble floor and each footfall echoed through the cavernous chamber that was the foyer. “This serves as a safe haven for all vampires. My grandfather commandeered it from a local royal.”

“Commandeered?” Grian asked softly as he followed shortly behind the taller man. Mumbo glanced back to Grian, an amused grin plastered across his face as he gave a wink. The subtle gesture could have meant anything, although Grian was almost certain that it hinted towards the violent past of the Jumboline family. 

Grian’s lips tightened then as he held back the sneer of cruelty he was about to unleash on the Jumboline name. He gave a soft breath of composure before he spoke again. “Your grandfather got around a bit, this architecture seems to be --”

“Seven hundred years old,” Mumbo interrupted. “My grandfather travelled to the lands of Scotia, as we called it back then and when he was...  _ Declined  _ this beautiful castle…” Mumbo’s lips pursed as he thought of how to describe his predecessor’s actions. “He lost his temper.”

“Lost his temper? I suppose I can guess what that means?” Grian hummed as he continued trailing behind Mumbo, the vampire pushed through the door that leads to the main hall of the building. A large mahogany table stretched across the entirety of the room and surrounding the perimeter were cabinets and artefacts that were held up by stands and brackets. 

Silver plates, swords and shields all shimmered in the candlelight that flickered above them, each stick was held in place by the hanging chandeliers. “Oh, of course. He drank the little maid of Norway before he then enjoyed Alexander the third for dessert.” Mumbo’s nail tapped against the tabletop thoughtfully before he continued. “Ever the patron of dramatics, my grandfather.”

“Clearly. He sounded delightful.” Grian shot back, sarcasm dripping from his every word and as his eyes met Mumbo’s the two men shared a salacious grin before descending into chuckles. “How did he live for so long?”

Mumbo’s head fell back as he gave an echoing hoot of laughter. When he sobered he almost growled his next words. “Oh Grian, you amaze me with your ignorance.” Mumbo chuckled. “We’re vampires. Immortals, as are you.”

Grian stopped then, brows furrowed. His lips pursed in contemplation as he held Mumbo in place with inquiring eyes. 

“You clearly have more questions.” Mumbo beckoned as he swirled his hand in the air. “Out with it.”

Grian’s jaw clenched as he gathered his stammering thoughts. “If we’re immortal, how is my mother dead? Why were you living alone in Chagford? There should have been hundreds of vampires there?”

A snort echoed through the hall and both Grian and Mumbo’s eyes snapped to the origin. Iskall stood in the doorway watching them. “Please can we stop with these dramatics?” The Swede asked through peels of giggles. “It feels like a gothic concert in here.” 

Mumbo smirked at that as he dipped his head. “Maybe the dramatics run in the family.”

* * *

The room that had been given to Grian was equally as magnificent as the one he’d been assigned in Chagford manor, except this one had a slight extra lavish flare. The four-poster bed stood in the centre of the room and draped across the floor were animal skins, their spread eagle limbs stretched out and carpeted the marble. 

A roaring fire had been lit, and as it drained the wood of its flammable fuel, the flames licked at the back wall and sputtered in its scintillating glory. Large windows gaped out to the grounds of the castle and through the musty glass, Grian could spot a large spanning hedge maze, acres of grass and a forest of artful topiary.

The leaf monsters had been cut in a manner of different designs, some were gargoyles and others were a flurry of different animals and birds. 

Grian perched at the end of his bed, his eyes were trained on his hand as he held it before him. His brow twitched as he flexed a strange muscle, he was sure it hadn’t existed before his first transformation from human to lycan. 

His appendage trembled and his fingers shook with the force of his strain as the bones creaked and cracked. A peculiar smoke flew away from his skin as his hide darkened to an almost leathery texture. Dark spindly hairs stretched from the back of his hand and spread down his forearm.

A distant discomfort shook through the tips of Grian’s malformed digits as his nails slowly extended and sharpened to long black talons. The pads of his fingers and palm hardened. His eyes were fixed on the transformed limb, he twisted it as he examined each part of his new body.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” 

Grian hissed out in a shocked gasp as his arm reverted to its usual human state. He glared up to the man who leant against the door. Iskall.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that.” Grian muttered back to the Swedish vampire as he pushed himself from his bed and stepped towards the wardrobe. The door squeaked on its hinge as he tugged it open. Hanging in the dresser was a flurry of different clothes. Shirts, trousers and jumpers all hung on pegs, each of them were his size.

“Ren brought more of your clothes to us when he visited.” Iskall explained as he stepped over the threshold and into the bedroom. Grian glanced back and gave a derisive snicker as he shook his head.

“Oh please, come in.” He drawled sarcastically. A smirk tugged across Iskall’s face as he strolled across to the bed. His eyes trailed across Grian’s body as if he were surveying the man. 

“Mumbo likes you.”

“He barely knows me.” Grian replied absently as he closed the door to the closet and twisted to face the man who now perched atop the mattress. Grian watched him carefully, his ochrous irises glowed as he peered at the other.

“That is true.” Iskall muttered, fingers picking at a stray thread of cotton on the cuff of his sleeve. “But he does.” The man finished before his own stare connected with the lycan’s.

“I suppose we’ve become acquaintances.” Grian conceded.

“I suppose so.” Iskall nodded then. The blond’s brow furrowed at his response, a strange tone underlaid the man’s words and conveyed something that Grian wasn’t too sure he could decode. Iskall’s teeth worried at his lower lip before his eyes dropped to the floor. “But there’s something else, something… I’ve never seen it in him before.” Iskall continued.

Grian’s frown softened then as his face relaxed and his mouth pouted in a soft ‘o’. He pushed away from the closet before taking his seat beside the other. Both vampire and lycan remained silent as they shared the space. Their breaths fell in time and a strange thread stretched from Grian to the Swede. Something had clicked. 

“You’re worried about him.” Grian muttered then, his voice soft and hollow. The statement hung between the two as if it were the proverbial elephant in the room. Iskall glared at where it hung, invisible but completely detectable by both men.

“Yes. In the entire time that I’ve known him, he’s never…” 

“Iskall.” Grian said the man’s name in the pause that followed his last words. Iskall’s bearded face shifted as he turned and stared back to the blond. He hummed in response. “How long have you known Mumbo?”

The question stirred between them like a shared blanket. It encompassed both of them and wrapped them in a warmth that could only be shared by two on the brink of a change. A change in circumstance, a change in status. Their hearts did not beat in unison for Iskall’s vampiric blood had frozen his cardiac organ solid, if it could pump, however, it would have sung along with Grian’s.

“I met Mumbo at the Chagford market. I was sixteen and back in those times that was old enough to be a man. I had stood in for my father. We were butchers, everyone in the village knew how good our meat was. It was divine.” A small smile crept across Iskall’s lips as he spoke, allowing himself to delve deep into the memories of his past.

“We had emigrated from Sweden. The markets in my homeland had almost frozen as a strange plague washed through the villages, but Chagford seemed almost immune to the disease. That was why we went there.” 

Grian’s eyes flicked away and focused on the wall, they were concentrated on a spot that hung just above the fireplace. His mind was awash with images of a dreary little medieval town, peasants lumbered through the streets, their rags hung limply from their skinny bodies, wooden beams were filled with rot and as the wind billowed through the village, they rocked and creaked like a naval ship. 

Tarpaulin fluttered like the wings of a bird as it hung over the stall and kept the merchants’ heads dry. Voices echoed from every direction as each person called out the details of their wares. 

“Drake stood by his side and both didn’t care for me. I was but a lowly poor butcher’s son, if anything, their only interest was in my blood.” Iskall gave a gasping snicker than, his voice still held somewhere far away, a different time. 

“But the plague had followed us. The village remained immune, but my family weren’t so lucky.” Iskall’s jaw clicked shut as moisture gathered in his eyes. Tears sprang and stung at the seams of the vampire’s lashes. 

Grian’s face had paled as the man spoke, he ducked his head as a sorrowful and sympathetic wave shivered through his body at Iskall’s mournful tone.

“My sisters, mother and father all died of it while I was only just showing symptoms. The doctors hadn’t a clue how to help but I remember laying there in the hospital.” Iskall’s eyes were vacant, the tales of his history were alive in his gaze as he relived each moment that he gave voice to.

“I knew I was going to die and I didn’t care. I was going to be with my family. That’s when I saw him again. Mumbo walked through the ward, his eyes were fixed on me and although I was lost in the heat of a fever, I knew he had come for me.”

Images of a tall, pale man ran through Grian’s mind as he envisioned Mumbo standing there, mere feet away from a dying Iskall. His eyes were trained on the weak Swede who coughed and convulsed with the heat of the illness that wracked through his system.

“He asked if I wanted to live. I wasn’t sure, but I suppose it’s basic human instincts to try and cling to life. He offered me something, I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me, but whatever it was it sounded amazing. It sounded beautiful. He offered me immortality, to be a vampire. I accepted and in the cold of night, when all the patients, doctors and nurses were asleep, he visited me again.” 

Iskall’s words stopped almost abruptly as he pulled the collar of his lime hooded sweater down and over his shoulder. Grian’s eyes fixed on the man’s neck. A scar rippled across the flesh that stretched across the join of his shoulder and neck. Two puncture marks were indented in the skin. 

“I turned that night and all the pain stopped. I thought I was dead, although I knew I wasn’t… I ended up clearing the hospital that night. After my transformation, I have stayed by Mumbo’s side. We’ve been like brothers ever since.”

Grian remained silent then as he watched Iskall carefully. It was clear that the man had relived the most traumatic part of his life and the gravity that still hung in the air tugged at Grian’s heart with a weight that was like no other. A breath shook from his throat as he cleared it with a soft cough. “What year were you born?”

At Grian’s question, Iskall’s eyes flicked across to him, a strange feel of amusement shimmered behind the man’s gaze and he gave a soft sigh before answering. “I was born just one day before the Kalends of January, in the year 1340. I am six hundred and eighty years old.”

Grian’s breath left him then. The man that sat beside him had seen time unfold as no human could ever experience. He’d seen the dawn of a new century six times over and had experienced the world in so many lights. The man before him was an undead time capsule.

“How old is Mumbo?”

“1250 years.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, so we have had a Griskall moment ^.^ although, I like to think that the 'change' that took place between them just then was that of moving from almost strangers to something akin to friends or the beginning of such a friendship ^.^
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter and if there are any improvements that you guys think I could make, I would love to hear what you all have to say ^.^ Several minds are always better than just one :D
> 
> Anyhoo, if you did enjoy this chapter, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know what you thought ^.^ and as always, thank you for your unending support!


	14. Training In Bloodlust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So I'm back :D 
> 
> Back at work tomorrow I mean... ¬.¬
> 
> Oh well, I was in a writing mood today and while I should probably be resting before work tomorrow, I decided I wanted to write this chapter and get it out to you. It is a little bit late and for that I'm sorry, but I hope you like it either way :D
> 
> So, without further ado, happy reading ^.^

A soft orange glow set the clouds alight, Grian’s eyes trailed over their fluffy shapes and as he stared at their flaming illusion images shone through his mind, each one was a tale from a past that had long gone. Iskall had lived for many years and had seen so many ages.

The blond’s mouth twisted into a soft frown as he envisioned all the lonely months that Mumbo had once spent alone, how he’d been kept company by a man who served to do nothing but gain from his vampiric abilities.

Grian’s heart ached as he realised that as Mumbo infected Iskall all that time ago, he’d never truly known what a true friend had been, let alone experienced genuine love. 

His ochrous irises turned glassy as visions of a young Mumbo dashed through his thoughts. Fresh-faced and sporting a high-pitched timbre, it seemed almost unfathomable to imagine Mumbo in such a light and at such a young age. 

An aching scratch interrupted Grian’s reverie, a soft musk travelled across the wind and as it reached his nostrils the scent of pinecones, tea and something so unique filled his senses. His mouth quirked up in the corner as Mumbo’s face flashed behind his eyes. 

“I came to see how you were doing.”

Mumbo’s words seemed to struggle out of his mouth as if he were pushing a square block through the circular hole. “Iskall said that he’d spoken with you.”

At the mention of the vampiric Swede, Grian’s pupils flicked to the raven-haired man. His gaze slowly rolled over him as the blond gave a slow nod. “He did.” He replied. 

Tension filled the space between the two, it’s presence was distinctly known as it bound them both beneath a thick veil, Grian couldn’t think of a way to describe it, but as he surveyed the void that encompassed them, one word spilt into his mind, ‘awkward.’

“We’re going to have to search for others soon.” Mumbo muttered, eyes still locked on a space ahead of them both. “You need to learn to control the lycan within you.” He said as he twisted to face the smaller. “Change forms for me.” 

Grian watched him then, his brows furrowed before his eyes slipped closed, his lips tightened to thin white strips and his jaw clenched as his body strained with the force of his attempted transformation.

He gave a keening whine before he was forced to relax, face red and ruddy he gave a gasping lungful of air as his muscles thrummed and throbbed at the tight hold he’d just relieved. 

He glanced at the taller man through his lashes as a soft blush crept across his cheeks. “I can’t.” He panted, a well of shame dripped across his ribs as he ducked his head. 

“No, you can, you just don’t know how to yet.” Mumbo corrected, expression stony and calm. “The lycan abilities tend to be evoked through a strong sense of protective need, or rage. The rage changes are generally more unpredictable, so focus on a time where you felt the need to protect someone.”

Grian’s eyes narrowed before they slipped closed, a soft feminine voice echoed through his memories as he envisioned his mother. Her skin was deathly pale, her eyes were soft and glassy, a sheen of sweat clung to her body as a fever burned through her core. 

“I love you.” Her memory spoke, the words echoed through Grian’s recollection. 

As her last words to him swelled deep in his heart, a bitter sensation recoiled in his chest. A fortified iron armour covered his skin as he readied himself for a metaphorical battle. He had no chance of fighting her illness, but he tried to protect her, tried to shield her from what was to come. He had to.

A hot helpless tear slipped down his cheek as he focused on that moment, as he placed himself back there, stuck in that room with his dying mother. Her hand was firmly clasped in his own.

As Grian’s eyes opened he felt a strange sensation, a soft buzzing filled his ears and in an instant, his skin was alight with burning as fur pushed through his pores, his nails grew to talons and his bones cracked and creaked into his new canine form. 

His gaze settled on Mumbo and the man’s face lit up with a triumphant expression. “Very good.” Mumbo spoke calmly as he watched the wolfman before him.

Grian’s furry brows clenched together as his throat ached. His mind clouded as one thing filled his desires. 

_ Thirsty _ .

Before the blond could even begin searching for something to quench his need, the man before him spoke again. “Go back to your human form.”

It was like a slap to his cheek, Grian stared at Mumbo dumbfounded, offended by the vampire’s inability to understand his need for blood. He opened his mouth to speak, but a broken mewl fell out in place of the words that were supposed to be there. 

“I know, but you must turn back.” Mumbo replied as if he understood the lycan fully.

_ No.  _

_ I can’t. _

_ I must. _

_ I need to feed. _

The thoughts ricocheted through Grian’s mind like a record on repeat. He could hardly hear anything other than his slamming thoughts, each syllable clashed through his brain and vibrated into his core. 

“Turn back.” Mumbo repeated but this time, he stepped forward, a testing expression filled his eyes. Grian’s own ochrous irises shone with a dampened challenge. 

“Turn back.” He repeated.

_ No! _

The word echoed through his mind as Grian’s eyes narrowed on the man before him. A howl erupted from his throat as he charged at Mumbo. 

_ I have to feed! I have to! _

Grian’s mind was clouded with a sheer red hue as anger burst through his chest and flooded through his veins. A heat burned at his synapse as he pushed forward. 

A furry fist collided with something concrete, the garden ornament crumbled with the force of Grian’s blow as he gave a snarling growl.

His arm flung again with renewed gusto, although this time it hit something soft and plush. Grian’s gaze focused on the scene before him as Mumbo tumbled to the ground. His brows raised as a whine slithered out of his throat. 

But as much as Grian wanted to move and help the man below him, he couldn’t. There was something else there, something that clicked through his mind. He was no longer in control of the creature he’d become. 

He launched forward, a snarling row of teeth lingered near Mumbo’s throat as he gave a snarl of warning. 

“I’m sorry.” was all Mumbo said before he vanished. Grian’s snout pummeled the ground as he received a mouthful of dirt and grass. His eyes searched the area that Mumbo had been, but before he had the chance to properly react to the speed in which Mumbo had moved, a heavy force collided with his side and sent the lycan careening off to the right.

Rough grass and pebbled soil bit into his fur-covered flesh as Grian skidded to a stop, a mewling yelp of surprise gurgled from his gullet as he pushed to get his bearings. Once he was back to his feet, his glare locked on the pale, moustached vampire. A snarl dripped from his fang-filled maw.

Mumbo, however, appeared to be unruffled by the animalistic behaviour that Grian was exhibiting as he stood straighter and fixed his tie in place with an elegant tweak. His viridescent eyes flicked across and a soft, elegant voice breached the space between them.

“Turn back.” Mumbo ordered again 

“F-F…” The word was trapped in Grian’s snout, ill-equipped to speak, he could do nothing but stutter the word that lingered between his sharpened teeth. 

Although, as Grian stammered and sputtered at the word he had tried to propel to Mumbo, the vampire merely gave a slow nod of understanding. “You will feast, I can assure you, but for now you must change back.” 

Like a coat made from ice, a chilling touch soothed his burning skin as Grian slowly shrunk back to his usual human size, his bones cracked out in complaint and as the fur slowly retreated to a space below the skin, Grian gave a panting wince of discomfort as his humanity began to return to him. 

Once again, a silence echoed between the two as they stared at one another. The cool wind that brushed over their bodies whispered nonsense through the trees. Mumbo gave a curt nod of approval as his head dipped to regard the ornamental plant pot that had fallen victim to the wolf’s rage. 

“Pitty.” He hummed out solemnly before he jumped up and perched atop the stone wall. Grian watched the man move and his brows furrowed at the sight of the man relaxing against the concrete. 

“What now?”

“Now?” Mumbo asked back rhetorically. He gave a grave smile before he continued. “Now we do it again.”

* * *

The moon gracefully stared down at the grounds that spanned in its silver-lit greens as grass rolled to the far reaches of human sight. Grian’s hands gripped at the emerald blades as he clenched his fists tighter.

His shoulders trembled with each passing shaky breath, his eyes clenched as tears cascaded down his already soaked cheeks. Sweat forced the last scraps of his clothes to cling to his nearly naked form as the chill of the night air began to dampen the moisture that coated him.

His head was dipped low between his arched shoulders as he hunkered down on all fours, his throat scratched with each of his sobs as he repeated the same phrase over and over.

“I-It hurts, Mumbo… I can’t d-do it…” He cried out again, although his voice was barely above that of a mere whimpering, scraping wreck. 

His body gave a violent shiver as exhaustion began to settle in his muscles. He trembled as he stayed there, staring at the ground through tear-filled eyes. His ear twitched as the sound of clothes moving over skin rustled beside him. 

Mumbo lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs, although Grian could only see his lower half, he could feel the soft comforting gaze that the vampire trained on his helpless form. 

A hesitation lingered between them as Mumbo lifted his hand. The appendage remained stationary between them for what felt like a millennium and while both men remained still and silent with bated breaths, the hesitation seemed louder than any sound either had heard before. 

Grian wished he had the strength to lift his head, to speak without sounding like a voiceless ghoul, but his depleted form was a cage that pressed against him and held him down. If he could talk, he would have begged Mumbo to touch him, the mere idea of a comforting touch atop his ragged flesh was like a drop of water to a man dying of thirst. 

His eyes closed as his brows furrowed deep atop his forehead. His jaw clenched as he readied himself for whatever Mumbo was about to say or do, but before he could truly prepare for the worst, a soft trail of fingers glided through his golden locks and trailed across his scalp. 

Mumbo’s hands were that of pure aristocracy, there were no calluses, no signs of labour, his nails were primly manicured and were a slight bit longer than that of a physical man.

“It’s okay.” Mumbo’s words trickled out from between his soft lips as he uttered a comfort to the struggling lycan. “It’s alright.” He assured again and the temptation became too much for Grian.

It felt as if there were a physical line drawn between them, as if Grian was a boat lost to the waves and Mumbo was his anchor, his compass as he guided him to land. His arms gave way under the gentle caress of Mumbo and although he couldn’t control where his limp body landed, he gave a contented sigh as he collapsed in Mumbo’s lap. 

* * *

Copper stung at his taste buds as Grian’s consciousness returned to him. The darkness faded as his eyes opened. The moon hung low in the sky above him, the stars twinkled happily in the cloudless abyss and the peace of the land was stark as the leaves on the trees barely budged an inch in the windless night.

A deep thrumming ache continued to pound through his beaten muscles as the blond moved, although a soft gasp hissed through his lips as his eyes settled on his own body. Fur covered every inch of his skin and as he moved, he realised that his bones were no longer in a human formation and rather reminiscent to that of a canine.

Beside him, the space that Mumbo had once occupied was now empty and nothing but crushed grass remained in the wake of the man’s disappearance. Grian’s brows pinched high on his head as he glanced about himself. 

A strange sensation of confusion dampened his senses as his heart began to pound with newfound fear. Adrenaline was cold in his veins. If he could talk, he’d be shouting for his vampiric companion, he’d have been screaming out questions that told odes to his disorientation. 

Grass crunched underfoot as someone approached the prone lycan. Grian’s hackles rose as his ears twitched. He recognised the scent as Mumbo, although there was another with him, a smell that he didn’t know. His eyes flicked up to where the odours and sounds originated. 

Mumbo stood tall and straight, his suit was well kept as ever, and there seemed to be no evidence that he had once been hunched over and prone on the ground just moments prior to standing. There wasn’t a single wrinkle or blemish on the dark suit that he donned. 

Beside the vampire was a man, his eyes were glassy and he stared at something far away, his limbs flopped lifelessly and he shuffled in step with Mumbo. His clothes were nothing but basic rags, Grian wouldn’t have been surprised if the man’s apparel was nothing but an old potato sack with holes for his arms to fit through.

The lycan glanced between the weak man and the vampire. Grian gave a weak whimper of uncertainty, his mouth opened but nothing but a whine came out where there should’ve been a question. But, as always, his muted query was answered by Mumbo as if the man had a wiretap directly in the blond’s brain. 

“This is for you. You need to feed. But you need to be slow and controlled. You have to control your thirst, don’t let it control you.” Mumbo’s guiding words stretched between them as Grian glanced between both the human cattle and the vampire. 

His legs moved before Grian had a chance to decide if he wanted to step forward, his arms reached out for his new meal and before he could stop himself, his snout latched around the dazed man’s neck. 

It was as if Mumbo had given a bar of chocolate to a starving child. Grian’s thirst spoke for itself as it forced him to move and sate the need that ached deep within his throat. The cattle screamed out in a gurgling choke as Grian drank his life essence.

The iron-flavoured liquid washed over Grian’s tongue and he was certain that he hadn’t tasted anything sweeter. He felt the warm blood slither down and passed his jowls as he slurped, the crimson fluid leaked down the man’s throat as he was consumed. 

Grian’s eyes slipped closed as he drank, it was like a wave of euphoria had taken him. Relief flooded through him and for a moment he felt as if his insides were filled with glitter. He shone like a starry night as he drank the man in his grasp. 

“Careful, slowly.” Mumbo guided as Grian continued to gulp greedily. The bliss was so overwhelming that he could hardly feel his body slowly transform back to his human self and it wasn’t until his hands returned to how they always had been that Grian realised what had happened. 

“Okay, that’s it, you need to stop, remember what I said the first time?” Mumbo muttered with an urgent air as he stepped forward and pried the lycan away from his meal. Grian’s bloody maw detached from the cattle, who was now limp in his arms and gave out a snarling hiss. Mumbo merely shook his head as he pulled the cattle from Grian’s grasp.

Once the human cattle had been dropped to Mumbo’s side, the vampire stepped forward, producing a pure white handkerchief from his breast pocket. “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard tonight.” He muttered with a soft smile as he wiped away the stray droplets of blood from Grian’s cheeks. 

“But, we must work harder tomorrow. Ren will be sending other immortals to join our army. Soon there will be more vampires and lycans.”

Grian nodded silently as Mumbo continued to work on him, the vampire then pulled away with a triumphant smile, his viridescent irises bounced across Grian’s face as he scanned over his work. 

At Mumbo’s statement, the memory of Iskall’s story flickered back into his mind. Mumbo had been alive for hundreds of years and that realisation was one that shocked Grian to his core. “Do you know any of them?”

Grian’s question hung between them like a veil, Mumbo’s lips slanted in a thoughtful skew. His brows drew closer as he gave a short nod and pocketed his handkerchief. “I will definitely know one of them.”

“Who?”

Mumbo stepped passed Grian then, his hands pushed into his pockets as he stared out and over the grounds. Grian watched the man stop before he moved to join him at his side, his eyes were focused on the other, silent and waiting for the answer.

“His name is Doclean Vanhoff. I met him on the seventh day of the seventh month of the year and…” Mumbo paused for a moment. “We courted almost three decades ago.”

Grian’s eyes narrowed on the man beside him before he pushed his gaze to settle on the grounds before them. His chest tightened with a strange possessive feel and he struggled to resist the need to stand closer to the other. 

“Doc is what he goes by now. He prefers to be known as Docm77, although I think that’s rather over the top for a nickname.”

“I don’t know if I want to meet Doc.” Grian huffed out petulantly. At his statement, he could feel rather than see the amused glance that Mumbo sent his way. The sound of breath passing over lips and teeth was the only precursor that Mumbo was about to reply, but before he could another voice interrupted him.

“I-It’s really him.” 

Grian’s ears twitched at that and his brows tightened, he glanced to Mumbo before turning. There were two men and one woman, each one stood before them, their eyes were wide and in unison, they each dropped down to one knee. 

“We, the lycans of Glasgow, are humbled to meet our king.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D 
> 
> I will be posting a short Grumbo fic for Christmas, it most likely will be a songfic, so please stay tuned for that :D I've already got a good few ideas in mind for it :D
> 
> But, even though this chapter was a bit late in being sent out, I still hope you liked it :D
> 
> If you did, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D I do love reading and responding to each of your comments :D
> 
> Thank you all again for your lovely support, but I is back and am writing again :D so stay tuned and ready for a few more chapters :D


	15. Immortal Me, Immortal You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I hope you all had a lovely Christmas - If you celebrate. And if you don't, then I hope you had a lovely December 25th :D 
> 
> I had a lovely break and wanted so dearly to write something, but I refrained from doing so. I hope you all enjoyed my Christmas songfics :D 'Santa Baby' and 'I Saw Papa Kissing Santa Claus' :D I had a lot of fun writing them.
> 
> I am sorry if this chapter is a little rusty, it's been weird getting back to writing after such a long break, but either way, I do hope you like it :D
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, stay safe and happy reading! ^.^

A beacon of pure white light shone down from the tarry sky above, it’s pale beauty lit the world below in a stark brightness. The colours seemed to have been washed away by the sharp moonlight.

Beside the yawning moon, the stars twinkled like little milky sequins on a dress, the satin fabric was an endless veil that encompassed the world above. 

Grian’s breath held thick in his throat as he glanced between the three kneeling people and the vampire beside him. The man on the far left had a head of neatly combed mousy brown hair, although his head was dipped, Grian could spot the light shadow of facial hair that littered his cheeks and jaw. 

The middle man sported a mop of white, almost silvery, hair, his eyes were closed and stretched across his forehead was a black headband that kept his pale locks from slithering into his face. 

The two men dressed rather similarly, both donned black shirts and while the white-haired man wore dark jeans, the man on the left wore knee-length cargo shorts. 

The lady who took up the spot on the right had shoulder-length chocolate hair, her face was pale and soft, her lashes were long and she donned a sweet pink shirt and cut off denim shorts.

Their words of greeting hadn’t registered with Grian until his nose twitched. A faint odour of fur and heated bodies wasn’t what he’d expected to smell. Unlike vampires, lycans had a lively scent, whereas their undead counterparts seemed to have a more copper and ashen aroma. 

_ “We, the lycans of Glasgow, are humbled to meet our king.” _

It hit Grian then. The oddity of the scene seemed so stark as his brain caught up with what he saw before him. His eyes flicked to the side as he glanced to Mumbo, and what he expected to see didn’t match up with what he actually saw.

Grian’s brows furrowed with confusion, where he assumed Mumbo would’ve taken a leadership role and addressed the lycans before him, the man remained silent, a soft ghost of a smile tugged at his lips and it was then that the vampire held Grian’s stare in a wordless conversation. 

The vampire leaned closer as he whispered to the blond. “They’re not bowing to me.”

_ They’re not bowing to… _

Grian’s brow wrinkled further as his eyes were cast back to the three kneeling lycans. 

_ Who could they be bowing to if not to… _

_ Oh… _

Grian’s mouth opened in a soft O as realisation dawned on him. His chest tightened at the sudden revelation.

_ Why are they bowing to me?  _

_ I… I’m not a king… _

The middle man cleared his throat and the sound seemed to knock Grian out of his reverie. “Thank you.” He muttered dumbly, unsure what else he should say. His eyes slipped across and landed on Mumbo once more. 

With an amused expression, the vampire subtly flexed his wrist and moved his hand in a waving motion, as if silently directing the three to rise to their feet. Grian’s jaw clenched as he nodded once again. “Err, you can stand.” 

Puzzlement overtook Grian as he watched the scene play out before him. He felt a strange and stony detachment, as if he wasn’t present, as if he were watching someone other than himself commanding the lycans to stand. 

A wordless air surrounded them as Mumbo stared, amusedly at Grian and the blond stared in bewilderment at those who moved before him. The soothing static of rustling clothes was interrupted however as stomping footfalls and crunching gravel alerted the five to on oncoming presence.

“Mumbo.” The Swedish accent was the only clue that Grian needed, he didn’t even have to look across to know that it was Iskall who stood beside them all but when the silence played out for longer than it should have, he flicked his sight to the Swede. 

Iskall’s cheeks glowed a light pink that would have been inconceivable to anyone who didn’t know the other vampire. Iskall’s mouth was clamped tight in a firm line as his own eyes jumped across each face, taking in the strangers as well as Grian and Mumbo. 

“Forgive me.” He muttered quietly as he cleared his throat and stared warily at the three lycans before them. “My lord.” He corrected himself. It was yet another layer of mystery that added to Grian’s growing confusion. 

Iskall had never addressed Mumbo with anything other than his name, he’d never appeared as anything but confident in his actions or word, except for now. The man seemed to have been encased in a costume and the mask that he wore was one not unlike how Drake used to appear.

Iskall suddenly acted like a butler or someone lesser than Mumbo and Grian themselves. 

Before the blond could question the Swede’s actions, Mumbo spoke. The silence that had encased the moustached vampire broke in a thousand shards as his deep voice radiated and boomed through the ears of the people around him. 

The strange lycans’ heads remained raised, but their eyes never left Grian, the rampant staring was rather disconcerting, but the sound of Mumbo’s commanding voice seemed to be the cherry on top for the peak of Grian’s befuddlement.

“Thank you.” Mumbo hummed out as he dipped his head in return to Iskall’s bow. At that, the Swede stood straight as if called to attention by his superior. “What is it?” Mumbo asked then.

“Vampires have arrived by carriage. I thought it best to alert you to their oncoming arrival. They await your appearance in the great hall.”

Mumbo’s lips tugged in a grateful smile then as he nodded once more. “Very well, I appreciate your interruption.” 

Grian’s eyes widened at that as he twisted his body to face Mumbo. He opened his mouth to question the man’s strange actions, but before he could speak, Mumbo’s hands clapped together as he addressed the new lycans and Grian himself.

“Then shall I suggest that we reconvene in the great hall? We have much to discuss.” And with that suggestion, Mumbo moved and began walking back towards the castle with Iskall hot on his heels. 

A void of sticky puzzlement fixed Grian in place. He couldn’t move. He hadn’t a clue what was going on and the strange behaviour of his friend seemed to only solidify the anxiety that swelled and tensed in his chest. 

All three pairs of eyes were still fixed on him as the lycans remained still with him. “Come along, Grian, it is immortal tradition that one shall not move unless their king does first.” The comment was thrown over Mumbo’s shoulder as he continued walking and the statement did nothing to aid in clarification, in fact, it made Grian’s bafflement all the more worse. 

The blond gave a soft nod before he moved to follow the two vampires and as he did, the lycans that had arrived from Glasgow fell into step close behind him.

* * *

Below an ornate mantle and in the centre of the left wall, the fire roared with life, it’s licking sparks tasted the burning logs in its blazing maw and the flames painted the large cavernous room in a soft yellow glow. 

Grian recognised the room as the one he and Mumbo had been speaking in on their arrival to the castle. Stretched along the centre of the room was a long wooden table where nine people sat at, all faced with a plate of raw flesh and a goblet of warm viscous blood. 

Mumbo took his place at the head of the table, Grian sat opposite him and spread out across either side were four vampires, including Iskall and the three lycans of Glasgow. 

“Welcome everyone.” Mumbo’s words filled the silent chamber as he called out to each vampire and lycan who sat around him. 

His eyes bounced across each face before finally settling on Grian’s. “I’m sure the majority of you are familiar with this castle and while I am happy to welcome our lycan brothers and sisters to this haven, I am aware that this meeting has come at a cost. A cost to tradition and a cost to all of our futures.” 

The words that flowed from the man’s mouth seemed so forlorn. Grian wanted to move over to the man, to take his hand, to… His brow furrowed then. 

_ To what?  _

Grian’s head dipped as he stared at the meal before him. “But I thank you and I ask one simple favour. We must all be welcoming of each other, just as I have been with each and every one of you. We are all sons and daughters of Irisius McKai. We must set aside our differences and be as one.”

A small murmur of agreements left the mouths of those who sat around them. Grian’s head rose then as he watched both the lycans and the vampires nod along with Mumbo’s words. 

“Thank you, my lord.” Iskall’s voice seemed so feeble in comparison with how he usually sounded. Where the man would once tease Mumbo and act as though both of them were equals, he now spoke as if he were grateful to be in the same room as the man. 

“I would like to start a toast, if my lord agrees?” Iskall asked, proffering his goblet to the centre of the table. His eyes were fixed on the moustached vampire, a questioning expression masked his face. 

Mumbo gave another glance to Grian before he dipped his head, silently passing across his blessings to the Swede. “Thank you, sir.” Iskall hummed before he continued and addressed the entire room. “I’d like to propose a toast to the humans of the village for valiantly giving up those who they love so we can have this meal.”

As Iskall’s words came to a halt, each vampire and lycan raised their goblets as they chanted in unison. “To one we thank so all can live.”

As each person spoke Grian remained silent as he watched the others around him. Once they’d uttered those words and raised their goblets in their toast they each took a sip of the blood before setting the vessels back on the table. 

“And we thank no one because no one is willing!” A German accent boomed across the table as the man in question gave a hooting swell of laughter that was followed with a hoard of giggling. 

Grian’s eyes were fixed to the man, his skin seemed so pale that it had an almost greenish tint, a part of his face was covered by something metal and where his left eye should have been, a red light shone instead.

Once the laughter had died to an amused silence, Grian couldn’t help himself. The lycans of Glasgow, Mumbo’s speech, the prospect of him being royalty. 

It was all too much, too much for him to process and too much for him to be silent about, but the toast and the apparent joke that was so funny to everyone else, it was the last straw that broke the camel’s back and that camel was Grian.

“What’s so funny? I don’t get it.” He asked softly and if he thought the room was silent prior to his question, Grian couldn’t have been more wrong because it appeared even the fire had stopped it’s incessant sputtering and clicking in response to his question.

“Ah, the young king who you are tutoring, I believe, Mumbo?” The green-tinted man spoke, ignoring Grian’s question. 

The blond glanced to his friend and before he could say a word, Mumbo rose to answer. “Doc, now is not the time for insubordination. We are all trying to respect traditions.” 

“What traditions?” Doc sputtered incredulously. “Respecting prophecies that are dictated by our elders? I don’t see anyone respecting that tradition, do you?” There was a moments pause as everyone ducked their heads. 

Although Grian didn’t fully understand what was going on, he knew of the prophecy that Doc spoke of. “It seems that we can pick and choose what traditions we follow.”

“Doc, please. We are all trying here.” Mumbo muttered out the diplomatic plea, and as he did, his head bowed and fell into his hands. The man seemed exhausted. Grian’s brow furrowed at the sight, he’d never seen Mumbo appear quite like how he did then and if he were honest with himself he didn’t like it one bit. 

“You respect your king.”

The stern words left Grian’s mouth before he had the chance to consider the repercussions. His eyes were wide in shock at himself and as he stared across to Mumbo, the vampire seemed just as surprised, although there was something else there too, something that Grian couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“My king?” Doc asked Grian then, a sardonic smile stretching across his lips. “My king is in a slumber at the Waning Crypt, this is merely a prince, although if anyone were to see him beg for it in bed, they wouldn’t even describe him as that!” 

Mumbo’s cheeks turned ruddy and red with the violent blush that burned across his skin. Something twisted deep within the blond, something that he didn’t even know existed as he slammed his fist on the tabletop and stood from his seat. The legs of the chair screeched against the floor behind him. 

A fit of fiery anger blazed just under his skin as he stared at the green vampire. His eyes were blazing with the change and as he snarled at Doc, he couldn’t help but notice the fur that began to litter his forearms and the almost black claws that dug crescents into the table. “That’s enough!” He bellowed down to the man, although his words were more of a growling howl than that of a man’s voice.

Doc’s expression changed from one of a bully to that of astonished respect. He gave a deep rumbling chuckle. “Down boy.” He hummed out and winked across to Grian. The blond’s brows rose as he glanced across to Mumbo, silently searching for how to respond. 

“Thank you, Grian, but I think that Doc has asked a question that is on the minds of many of our guests.” Mumbo’s words were calm once again, and the grounded words that the man spoke settled something deep within Grian. The beast, the monster, the wolf that had threatened to emerge from within him seemed to have been sated.

A sharp flurry of clicking bones and the cool chill of the fur resettling under his skin was the punctuation to the silence as Mumbo readied to speak once again. 

“My father and Grian’s grandfather do still rest in the crypt. They are still locked in their restful immortal slumber and are yet to reanimate.” At the confirmation, a flurry of shocked gasps echoed around the table. 

Mumbo gave a grave nod before he continued. “I have called for you all not to fight our elders’ rein or fight  _ against  _ them, but to stand with me against the bigger threat. While our elders are resting, Grian and I have taken the thrown, we are to be known as your kings until our elders awaken.”

The silence that followed Mumbo’s clarification contained nothing but an understanding air. Grian’s eyes fell to Doc and the man gave a reluctant nod of acceptance. Mumbo gave a smile of thanks before he continued once more. “Should Grian agree to it, we shall renounce our royal titles until the battlefield.” At that, each pair of eyes fell on the blond. 

Grian’s brows raised in shock, the waiting and anticipation that lingered in each pupil were so overwhelming. He’d never been very good at public speaking, to be a strong component in a crowd such as this, over a topic that he didn’t even understand, it was enough to bring a wave of nausea that settled in his gullet. 

“I-I agree.” He muttered out quietly and received a nod of approval from Mumbo in response to his words.

Silence once again claimed the room as each vampire and lycan watched their superiors for a long moment before finally, they settled down enough to begin picking at the meat that laid out before them. 

“And Grian.” The German voice resurfaced once more. Grian’s eyes flicked up to meet Doc’s. He gave a hum and a small nod of acknowledgement. 

“It was funny because of how idiotic it is to believe that any human gave up their life  _ willingly _ .” The German vampire devolved into almost cruel chuckles again as he turned back to his plate and began to fill his giggling maw with the bloody raw meat of one of those non-consenting donors that he spoke of. 

No sound could be heard from the crowded room except the enthusiastic crunching of teeth tearing through flesh and the soft pops of the fire as it’s flaming sparks tore through its fresh log of wood. 

Mumbo lifted a napkin to dab at his lips before he settled back in his chair and abandoned his empty plate, cradling the goblet of blood between the palms of his hands. 

“I assume that you all know why you’ve been called here?” The question seemed to almost echo in the silence as each person glanced up to him, the same question plastered across their faces, all but Doc’s.

“The Lumenguard have resurfaced. Their numbers have grown exponentially, thanks to the Vatidon.” Mumbo paused as he stared down to his plate, a grave expression marred his features. 

Before he spoke again, his eyes flicked up to the people who surrounded the table, each now finished with their meals and were all sipping elegantly at their blood-filled chalices. “We face extinction.”

The statement was so finite, so filled with a force that Grian was almost certain that none of the immortals could even begin to process an end to their lives. But as a man who’d lived a young life as a human, he knew all too well what that inevitability felt like, and after only a taste of his immortal bloodline, he most certainly didn’t want to return to that humanistic fear.

“Our elders came up with the prophecy to defeat them, to protect our two great immortal species. But, I believe that they’re wrong.” Mumbo nodded then, his eyes were now fixed on Grian and the blond could feel the full force of Mumbo’s anxieties. 

Fear that those around him would disagree, would choose their elders’ prophecy over Mumbo’s suggestion on the pure assumption of tradition. Grian gave a soft smile to his friend, a smile of understanding and comradery. However the others reacted, Mumbo would still have Grian’s support. 

“We do not need to combine the bloodlines, we instead must show that we are a united front, that we are not the savages that the Vatidon believe us to be. We are going to battle the Lumenguard and fight for our right to live.”

A flurry of cheers surrounded them as blood sloshed over the rims of goblets as each man and woman clinked their glasses together in a show of excitement. Relief flooded across Mumbo’s face and that same expression bled across the table and into Grian’s heart. 

Although he felt happy for Mumbo’s great reaction from their guests, he couldn’t help the sore aching of confusion that still bled into the edges of his mind. The entire day seemed to have been made up with words he had never heard, made up with facts that he’d never known were true. But he inclined his head and glanced across to the lycans. Each of them was silent and had remained so the entire evening. He suddenly knew his place, it was as if he finally remembered how to put a glove on and as he slipped his hand into the cotton garment, it had never felt so right. 

Grian raised his goblet as he stared at Mumbo. “The lycans are with you.” He spoke out proudly, receiving a soft hooting from his followers. 

Mumbo gave a small grin as he nodded with appreciation. “Thank you, and while we have yet to receive more brothers and sisters from our dear ally and brother in arms, Ren, I suggest we all take the time to introduce ourselves. Let’s allow the lycans to begin, Grian?”

The blond gave a small smile as he ducked his head. “I am Grian, king of the lycans and brother in arms.” The words seemed so foreign as they slipped from his lips. Although he was certain that he’d never said anything that felt more right. 

Each member of the group spoke and introduced themselves. The lycans were named Impulse, Etho and Stress, while the vampires were Doc, Keralis and False. Grian greeted each one with a soft ‘Hello’ and after everyone had introduced themselves each person lifted their goblets to chant one last line. 

“To the Vatidon we take this fight!”

* * *

The evening continued relatively quietly, everyone separated into small groups as they spoke amongst themselves. Impulse talked of his great friends from America and Etho mentioned his long life as a Japanese ninjitsu master, he had once taken the name of Kakashi Hatake, a name he had chosen from a phone book that he had liked so dearly.

Keralis, a vampire who wore magnifying goggles, spoke about his love for building things, how he enjoyed the reaction of basic humans when he built massive cities for them. False told tales of how she was a warrior and Stress mentioned her dear collection of adorable animals that she’d owned throughout her many years.

Doc spoke freely about his relationship with Mumbo, Grian’s eyes burned holes into the side of the man’s face as he sat closer to the moustached vampire. He told of those times when he’d met Mumbo’s family and how they had loved him so.

Iskall, Mumbo and Grian remained mostly silent. Iskall hadn’t moved from his spot beside Mumbo, he nodded silently as Doc spoke, but hardly a word of detail was actually retained in his mind. Mumbo’s cheeks were flooded with colour as he tried, in vain, to dissuade Doc from speaking so freely of their past courtship.

But Grian remained quiet and alone not because he only knew Mumbo and Iskall, but because he had decided that he couldn’t stand Doc, he knew that if he had a conversation with the man, the daydreams of his wolf form ripping Doc’s head off from his shoulders may actually become a reality.

Slowly the conversations died down to soft murmurs and as daylight began to peer across and over the hills outside the castle, a few of their guests pronounced their exhaustion and proclaimed their need for a long-needed rest. 

Iskall dutifully escorted each vampire and lycan to their room and instructed them to search the larder should they become hungry or thirsty and that each room had it’s own washing facilities but a larger bathhouse was available in one of the lower levels. 

Finally, as the hours continued to trudge along, the only two that were left in the large hall were Mumbo and Grian. Their silence filled the room just as loudly as the other’s voices had. Although their quiet awkwardness was not due to them not having anything to say, it was from not knowing how to begin saying it. 

“I had a lovely evening.” Mumbo muttered out then, quietly breaking the proverbial ice that frosted over both of the men. Grian’s eyes flicked up to Mumbo and his heart melted at the desperate expression he found there. 

The moustached vampire desperately wanted to talk with the blond, had novels to say to him, but yet a cork of awkwardness buttoned his lips closed. “I did too.” Grian replied and as he did, his mind darkened at the memory of Doc’s existence. “Although I would rather not spend time with  _ some  _ of them again.”

A cackling laugh bellowed out from Mumbo as he keeled over in his seat. “By some, you mean Doc, then?”

Grian glanced up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “How could you tell?” He asked jokingly. Mumbo brought his hand to his face as he tapped against his chin in an over dramatised expression of thinking. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the multiple fantasies of his death that were swirling across your eyes?”

Heat pooled in his cheeks as Grian ducked his head, blushing. “Was it that obvious?” He asked softly, peaking up to the vampire through his lashes. Mumbo shrugged softly, pitying the man before him. 

“No more than the others. I am fairly certain that every immortal that’s met Doc fantasises about killing him in some manner or another.” 

Grian chuckled then, a deep rumbling that vibrated through his chest. His hand tapped against the table, although his appendage paused as a yawn tore through his chest. “You should rest.” Mumbo told him.

Grian glanced up to his friend, his brows furrowed and a challenging smirk teased the corner of his mouth. “Only when you do.”

“There’s one room left, the others have been made up for our remaining guests, and Iskall.”

“So, you’re not going to sleep, at all?”

Mumbo snickered at this and gave a shrug. “I am immortal.”

“So is everyone else, but they still need sleep.” Grian told him, an exasperated air to his voice. “You can take the bedroom, I’ll find some couch to sleep on.”

“Like that’s going to be good for you, you have training to do, you need a comfortable bed. Not some lumpy sofa.” Mumbo told him, a soft smile painted his lips as he gestured above them. “Take the bedroom.”

“How about we share it.” Grian huffed out, his eyes rolling, although he hadn’t truly realised what he had suggested until his stare fixed on Mumbo and he saw the blushing cheeks brightening his face. 

“A-Are you sure?” Mumbo stuttered out nervously. “There is a coffin in every room. I have slept in coffins for years, I-I don’t mind.” He rambled. Grian gave a soft smile as he raised his hand. 

“Mumbo. I don’t mind if you share the bed with me or the coffin. But if I do share the room with you, then I want you to explain what all this Lumenguard, Vatidon and immortal stuff is about.”

Mumbo’s eyes lit up at that as he gave a breathy laugh. The sight of Mumbo’s happy expression set something alight deep within Grian and he found himself waiting for Mumbo’s answer with bated breath. 

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I have a full load of lore that I could honestly spend a full chapter writing about! To be honest, I think I'll make a whole new story post and just write about the lore in it and attach it to this story as a series, would anyone be up for reading it?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always, if you did enjoy it please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts!
> 
> I hope you all have a happy new year if I don't post before it!


	16. New Love Is Always Painful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so as some of you may be aware, the UK has gone into a Tier 4 (lockdown) while I'm safe and healthy, it also means that I am now off work until further notice! So more writing for me and more reading for you guys!
> 
> I hope you are all staying as safe as possible in these trying times and I hope that some of you can at least slightly escape the dark world by reading my story. :D
> 
> Anyway, stay safe and happy reading!

A liquid shadow filled the atmosphere that lurked beyond Grian’s bedroom window, it’s thick gloopy raven fluid seeped through the seams of the curtains and poured into the room, washing away sight as it filled the place with a stark darkness. 

Grian’s eyes fluttered and twitched under his heavy lids as he slowly emerged from the dreamscape that had encapsulated him so dearly throughout the day that had once fallen, hours ago.

The silence was the soundtrack to the bedroom as Grian slowly grasped a hold of his wakefulness. His eyes fluttered open and as they did, the darkness receded slightly as the pale moonlight shone through.

Like a hand of an infant reaching from their crib, the moon stretched out its silvery beams across the sky and illuminated the bedroom in a pure greyscale. Grian had been so tired earlier that he’d hardly noticed the intricate details of the space around him. 

Limestone bricks decorated the wall in its naked beauty, the mortar that held the stones in place stood out like an off-white mascara. Wenge wood spread its ornate skeleton across the bedframe that surrounded Grian.

The four-poster bed held mustard tartan sheets overhead, the cotton material hung down and was tied to each thick pole almost as if it were wearing a corset as the fabric flared further outwards the closer it got to the floor.

The same wenge could be seen in all the furniture of the room, it lined the windows and doors, held the thick chairs in place and even stood tall and grand as it made up the dresser that towered over the blond from the far wall. 

A sizzling pop sputtered from the opposite side of the room. Grian raised his head as his brows drew close. A fire. The wall was hollowed out and in the pit that had been made, a fire roared with life below the wenge mantle. 

Grian’s lip pouted as he thought long and hard, delving into the far reaches of his memories, picturing the events that had occurred the day prior as he’d entered the bedroom. It had been a cold iceblock of a place as the cool air slathered over him like a yeti’s breath. 

The chill of his memory brought icicles to his vision as realisation dawned on him. The fire hadn’t been lit when he’d entered the room and it hadn’t been lit as he’d slithered under the covers of his bed.

It was then that the relative quiet of the room was interrupted by a soft puffing of air. It was as if Grian’s ears hadn’t been in tune with the sound, as if they came from a radio station that he couldn’t connect to.

But as he listened harder, the sounds became more prominent. Like wispy clouds, the small huffs filled the room around him and as he continued to listen, they became almost impossible to ignore.

His eyes flicked across to where the noises were coming from and his stare landed on a dark mahogany coffin. The lid to the thing was hanging open and through that slither of a gap, Grian could see a shine of pale luminescent skin. Mumbo.

The vampire hadn’t been in the room with him when Grian had gone to bed. Mumbo must’ve crept in after Grian had fallen asleep, he must’ve started a fire and then clambered into his coffin. 

But as the man slept, he must have accidentally pushed at the lid for not only could Grian spot a small patch of skin, but he could see Mumbo’s restful face and his arm lolling out of the side. 

At that moment, Mumbo’s skin appeared to be silky soft and milky white. Images of Grian’s warm lips being chilled by the undead cold of the man as Mumbo lay beneath him, moaning and pushing back to him, gasping and--

Grian’s eyes widened at that. His jaw clenched shut and his brows furrowed. 

_ Where had that come from? _

_ I mean, it doesn’t particularly matter. We’re friends, not lovers, we’re…  _

_ No, that’s not appropriate in the slightest. _

Grian’s brows grew closer together as he frowned, a deep unsettling feel of unrest dabbled at the base of his stomach as he silently berated himself for having thought of Mumbo in such a light. 

The lycan snuck another peak, but as he did so, the soft puffs that Mumbo emitted were translated into heavenly breathy moans of pleasure. Grian gave a helpless whimper as the heels of his hands dug into his eye sockets. All the while, Mumbo rested so innocently and unaware of Grian’s inner turmoil.

With a heated flush burning at the skin of his cheeks, Grian twisted and tugged back the covers, revealing his boxer-clad and undressed body to the warmed room. He slipped from the mattress and silently padded across the hardwood of the floor and to the washroom, gently closing it behind him. 

As Grian ran the hot water and slowly filled the basin thick steam clouded through the room. He could hardly see his own silhouette in the mirror as the place became so fogged.

He shut the faucet off with a squeak before he cupped a handful of water and splashed it over himself, washing away the sleepy haze that still lingered at the corners of his eyes, rung out the stuffiness of slumber and tried, in vain, to scrub away the thoughts that had plagued his mind only moments prior.

But it seemed that as he continued his attempts to forget the fantasies, they came back with a vengeance and filled his mind with fierce images that almost swayed him to want to keep them. Although, the strong persistent voice that cut off the imaginings repeated to Grian that Mumbo was nothing more than a mate and good friends don’t think about their mates like that.

As he said that same phrase for the third time, he glared at his reflection, willing the thought to remain firmly seated in his mind and as he stared at himself, slowly the thoughts and wants began to fade to a clouding abyss. 

He plunged his hand deep into the warm water, now cooling slowly, and tugged the plug from where it rested over the hole. He rested the black rubber atop the porcelain shelf before he dried off on a nearby towel and tugged on fresh clothes for the day.

Donning jeans and a jumper, Grian straightened the creases of his outfit as he stroked his hands down the front of his body, from chest to thigh. He gave a nod of satisfaction before he unlatched the door and pushed the heavy thing open, releasing the steam that had been barricaded in the washroom with him.

Once the clouds had cleared, Grian’s eyes fell on the man who now stood in the centre of the room. Mumbo had awoken from his sleep, the door to the coffin had been left ajar and as Grian’s eyes landed on the vampire, all his work to forget his sordid thoughts fell away as they came back in abundance. 

Mumbo wore nothing but a pair of black boxers, his skin was stretched over lythe muscle and each rolling curve of the man’s body shone in the pale moonlight, his hair was mussed and messy, his eyes were drooped from having only just awoken and Grian could hardly keep himself from closing the gap and reaching up to touch the man’s mass of haphazard raven spikes. 

“G’night.” Mumbo muttered softly, the rumble of his voice drew Grian from his reverie as the blond stood in dumbfounded silence. 

“W-What?”

Mumbo glanced out the window before gesturing out with a straightened arm. “It’s night. I’d normally say good morning, but…” He trailed off as he ushered Grian to connect the dots for himself. 

“Oh, right yeah of course.” Grian muttered back, his voice a wrecked muddled. Pink splayed a soft dusting of a blush across the blond’s cheeks as he ducked his head. “Still getting used to all this.” He excused himself softly. “Good night.” 

Silence stretched between the two before Grian peaked up to the other through his lashes and almost squeaked at how close Mumbo suddenly was. His broad white chest was only a mere stretch away from Grian’s face and his dusky nipples were in touching distance. 

Mumbo cleared his throat, a confused frown graced the lines of his face. Grian glanced up to the man and the blush darkened. “Oh umm…” He stammered. 

“I… I need to use the bathroom.” Mumbo explained as he nodded to the space behind the lycan. Grian flicked his eyes back to the washroom door before he gave a strained chuckle.

“Oh, of course. You need to loo and you need to wash and…” 

Mumbo’s brows furrowed deeper on his face as he took in Grian’s strange actions. “Are you alright?” He asked but Grian replied with a chuckle that was far too high pitched.

“Alright? Me? Yeah, I’m fine, completely fine.” The cadence of his voice dropped significantly as he felt himself plummetting down to an even bigger hole than before, knowing he could never begin attempting to climb out. 

He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You know, I’ll see you downstairs.” Grian muttered out again before slipping passed the almost naked man and barrelling thoughtlessly out of the bedroom. 

Downstairs was far more lively than Grian and Mumbo’s bedroom had been. The castle was filled with the vampires and lycans that Grian had met the night before and each one seemed to have something to do. 

The vampires seemed to have split off on their own, each focusing on a task that Grian couldn’t quite make out from where he stood at the foot of the stairs, and the lycans seemed to have congregated together, each chatting animatedly about something Grian couldn't hear.

Although as the scene played out before Grian, the soft beating base of footsteps pummelling the floors, Grian could spot Iskall frantically jogging from room to room. As the vampire ran, the blond would catch a glimpse as he ran through the corridor between rooms.

Finally, the Swede came to a stop beside Grian. “Good night.” The man muttered out in a string of pants.

“Good night.” Grian greeted back, watching the brunette for a moment before Iskall spoke once more.

“Do you know where Mumbo is? More vampires have arrived and he needs to greet them.”

Grian hardly had a chance to answer as at the mention of Mumbo’s name, the blond ducked his head as his cheeks heated to what he assumed was a bright and obvious blush. 

A roll of lighthearted laughter trickled from Iskall’s lips as he patted Grian on the arm. “I think I know where he is.” He muttered humorously, amusement coloured his voice as he headed up the stairs. 

“Hey, no it’s not like that! We’re not…” But Iskall had already disappeared from view before Grian could protest the situation. The blond hung his head as he massaged the headache that was sure to brew behind his eyes.

“Ai wa muzukashīdesu.” The words cut through Grian’s silent self-berating and before he could truly process the foreign words, his eyes caught sight of bright white hair and dark clothes. 

Etho leant against the wall opposite Grian, his lips were upturned in a knowing smirk and an age of life travelled through his eyes like a flicker book. Grian’s brow furrowed as he shook his head. “I don’t know what you said.”

“New love is always hard.” Etho translated and as Grian began his mantra, protesting and denying that he and Mumbo had ever been in a relationship, Etho silenced the man with his outstretched hand. 

“I don’t care, Grian. What you guys do…” He paused before his eyes flicked up and down Grian’s body, the blond felt like a prize cow on display at an auction. “Or don’t do, for that matter, doesn’t bother me. I am more interested in how the change was for you.”

“The change?” Grian asked as his brows creased with puzzlement. “What do you mean?” It then clicked as memories of that night outside the halfway house played through his mind. “Oh, my change as a lycan? I’ve been like this for --”

“I’ve lived my immortal life for three hundred years. You’ve been a lycan since birth, but you only just started your immortal life. I know what a pup smells like.”

“A-A pup?” Grian questioned as shame coloured his cheeks. Etho let out an amused chuckle as he pushed away from the wall. 

“Come along, pup. You have much to learn.”

“Where are you going?” Grian called out as Etho ambled towards the front door of the castle. The man paused in his walking as he glanced over his shoulder and back to the blond. 

“Well, we have a war afoot. Don’t you want to know how to use your wolf form?” 

* * *

[Grian is in his wolf form, running after Etho and he accidentally barrels into an older lycan called Cleo]

The night air stood still as the cool breeze wafted across the grounds of the castle. The moon hung high in the sky as it watched over Grian’s galloping form. His golden fur danced in the wind as he ran after Etho, his fur was just as white as his human hair, except healed raised scar flesh marred the skin on his snout. 

Like a cloud of thunder, Grian’s paws pummelled the ground and sent shockwaves through the earth, filling his ears with the deep rumbling of four running limbs. His ochrous eyes glowed brightly as he followed the older lycan. 

Although the term ‘followed’ was used rather loosely as he ran in the vague direction of Etho, he wasn’t paying any attention to where he was heading, his eyes were so firmly fixed to how his clawed hands slapped against the grass-covered ground.

A solid mass of a fleshy wall stood in his way and before Grian had the chance to look up, he barrelled at full speed into it, collapsing to the floor in a muddle of fuzzy limbs. 

Laughter glittered through the air and reached the blond’s ears as they twitched at the sound. He glanced up to the creature and was met with a red-furred lycan, although the fur was mottled and patchy as bare skin could be seen in the large expanses of hairless areas. 

The lycan stood on their hind legs as they gave an elegant bow to Grian’s crumpled form. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord.” The words seemed to echo through Grian’s mind as the creature gave a howling laugh. 

“How can I hear you?” Grian tried to speak, although no sound left his mouth.

“A telepathy we all share, we can speak to our own kind like this.” The lycan’s internal voice was a high pitched tinkle and held a certain feminity as they spoke. “My name is Cleo, and you must be the pup who’s our king.” Another chuckle could be heard except it was interrupted as her eyes fell on the white-furred lycan as Etho approached the two.

“Etho!” Cleo’s voice screamed in both the man’s minds as the red-haired lycan barrelled over to the older man, she nuzzled him softly before rubbing up against him in greeting. Grian watched the two curiously before his nose twitched at a familiar scent.

His eyes followed to where his nose lead him to and across the grounds, the sight of Mumbo filled his view. The man appeared so small, like a spec on a sheet of paper as he stood so far away. 

“I…” But before he could finish the sentence, Etho’s red and white eyes fixed on him as the older man gave a gentle nod of understanding, dismissing Grian from their training. 

Without a moment's hesitation, the young lycan sprung to his feet and sprinted across the grounds to Mumbo and just as he reached the entrance to the castle, gave a pained moan as his body transformed back to his human form, the creaking sounds of bones reshaping and his fur being sucked back beneath his skin burned at his nerves. 

“We have much to discuss.” Mumbo’s words hung in the air like a distant gonging sound, so impossible to dismiss and completely out of place in the fun and excitement that Grian had only just undertaken, the vampire’s tone was a stark sobering force that grounded the young lycan back to earth before he followed the moustached man inside.

“What’s wrong?” Grian asked as they stepped through the foyer and finally, Iskall met them at the great hall. His question hung in the air unanswered for what felt like minutes, although it was mere seconds in reality. Grian watched patiently as Mumbo gave a forlorn expression and glanced across to Iskall. 

“We have new arrivals.” 

Grian’s face brightened at that detail although his expression fell glum once more as Mumbo’s desolate eyes remained settled to the ground. “That’s good news, isn’t it? Our word had been getting out, right? Ren is meeting more people, that means we’re setting off soon? Should I pack?”

At the flurry of question’s Mumbo met Grian’s excited stare then and the sight that greeted the blond was enough to darken even the brightest of feels. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked again as his stomach dropped, a sickening void unfolded beneath his sternum as his eyes flicked from Mumbo to Iskall and back again, although no extra information was revealed. His lip pouted as anxiety settled in his heart. 

Mumbo’s lips skewed and tensed as words piled up against his mouth, begging to be released but was held back by some form of hesitation. Grian shuffled from foot to foot, awaiting the information that was sure to be freed. 

“We aren’t leaving, not yet and not to find more people.” Mumbo told him simply, although the statement was anything but simple as Grian digested the news. 

“Then…” He paused, voice soft and uncertain. “What’s going to happen?”

It was then that the downtrodden eyes, the nervousness and distant nature that was held by Mumbo began to make sense.

“I met with some more vampires this morning, they arrived by carriage. They…” Mumbo swallowed a lump in his throat before continuing. “They told Iskall and I about the Lumenguard. They’re aware that we are rallying an army. They know we’re in Scotland, but they don’t know our exact location yet.”

Grian nodded at that. “Okay, so… What’s going to happen? I don’t think I understand what this means, are we in danger?”

Mumbo shook his head at that last question, although the sadness that still lingered at the lines of his face remained. “No, we aren’t in danger, not yet anyway. We… I’ve sent out correspondences to Ren, he… W-We haven’t heard from him since that night, he was supposed to leave us notes, send more immortals with information and updates on his whereabouts, but…” 

“Mumbo…” Grian interrupted the man, his tone trepidacious. “Where is Ren?” 

And that was the question that Grian should have asked from the beginning. Mumbo’s eyes fell to the floor once again as his face darkened with shame and something akin to guilt. He worried his bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

A rock settled wholly upon Grian’s rib cage and the weight of it halted his breath, sweat began to bead at his forehead and his hands became clammy. “Is… Is he alive?”

“I don’t know.”

Grian twisted on his heel, then as he began to beeline towards the door. “Grian wait, where are you going?”

“I have to find him, Mumbo. I can’t just leave him out there with the Lumenguard getting closer.” Grian muttered this over his shoulder before he continued out to the hall and began to jog up the stairs. 

“Grian it’s dangerous!” Mumbo called out, tumbling towards the stairs on ungainly legs, unsteady in his hurry to reach the blond. Grian stopped in his tracks and twisted to glare at the moustached vampire, his eyes were ablaze and his tongue was sharp. 

“Mumbo, he’s my cousin.”

“And you’re --” Mumbo paused in his words as his jaw slammed shut, his eyes widened as if realising what he was about to say, although the words didn’t miss the blond and Grian stepped down to meet Mumbo’s height.

“I’m what?” He challenged but Mumbo’s head ducked down, unable to finish his sentence earlier. 

“The lycan king.” Iskall called out behind the struggling vampire.

“Yeah, they survived without me, all this time.” Grian gestured out as if he could underline the years with his hand. “They’ll be fine without me now.”

“You’re wrong, Grian we all need you.” Iskall continued but was met by nothing but a scoff from the smaller man as Grian rolled his eyes at the Swede. 

“No, the only person who needs me is Ren.” He muttered finally. “I’ve made up my mind.” He told them as his eyes flicked between the two, allowing them time to protest, but when no words were spoken, Grian gave a firm nod before he twisted and continued his walk to the bedroom he’d shared with Mumbo.

Beyond the bedroom door, an entirely new world existed. At the beginning of the night, Grian had been filled with the flutter of new feelings, the start of a new life, but now, he was faced with nothing but a sea of fear and uncertainty. 

He folded his clothes neatly on the bed before laying them in his rucksack, the movements were so methodical and regimented that he could escape into his mind as memories of his childhood with Ren flashed across his vacant eyes.

“Where’re you going, pup?”

Etho’s voice tugged Grian from his reverie as the man gave a huff of frustration. “If Mumbo sent you, I’m not interested. He can’t stop me.” Grian spoke without pausing in his task, he kept his back turned away from the older lycan.

The footsteps were the only clue that the blond had as Etho slowly moved closer. “Mumbo didn’t send me. I was heading up to my room and then saw you packing.”

Grian’s arms suspended then as he held his shirt in the air, stuck halfway through the motions. He dropped the garment before twisting to face the other. “Ren is stuck out there and no one seems to care but me. I have to go get him and bring him here, to safety.”

Etho remained silent at that explanation, his mouth skewed with thought as he considered Grian’s statement. “A world writhe with Lumenguard is no place for a pup to be running aimlessly.”

Grian’s brow snapped to a jagged frown as his eyes lit with a brighter flame than before. “He’s my cousin! How on earth could  _ you  _ understand? I’m not a pup, I’m a man. I have to do what’s right, no one else seems to be able to!” He growled out, gaze narrowed on Etho.

“Yeah… You’re probably right. What do I know?” He asked softly, a tinge of sadness embellished his words as he patiently shook his head at the younger man. “Good luck.” He muttered before he silently turned and slowly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

* * *

The bag felt almost weightless as it hung from Grian’s shoulders, his mind was astray with visions of what mess Ren was stuck in, he could hardly hear his own footsteps as he descended the stairs and ventured towards the front door.

“Grian.” Mumbo’s words stung the blond like a wasp. He paused in his walking before sneering at his friend, shaking his head in warning.

“No Mumbo. I’m going.” He snarled.

“But --”

“Why doesn’t anyone else see that he needs help?!” Grian shouted then, where there were once voices filling the castle, the entire place hung with an echoing silence in the wake of Grian’s outburst. 

“Hey, guys!” Impulse interrupted, his eyes wide with concern as he jogged over and situated himself between the vampire and lycan. “What’s going on?”

“Not now.” Mumbo huffed out before lifting his gaze over Impulse and focusing on Grian. “Grian, you can’t go, you have to--”

“I don’t have to do anything but get Ren back!”

“Okay, guys, let’s stop this for a moment.” Impulse intervened once again. A hesitant smile stretched across his lips as he twisted to face Mumbo. His hand rested on the vampire’s arm as he spoke. “Maybe, and I mean no offence, but maybe someone of his own kind might be able to help?” 

As soothing as Impulse’s words were, Mumbo’s eyes widened with shock at the insinuation. He watched the other lycan for a moment before he let out a derisive scoff and shook his head. His eyes flicked passed Impulse and landed on Grian, but the smaller man remained silent.

The weight of Mumbo’s stare grasped at Grian’s heart and tugged at him. He couldn’t answer, he couldn’t speak, so his head merely dipped and as he heard the unspoken words of hurt flashing through the hall, all directed at him, his heart broke and then shattered as the sound of Mumbo’s retreating footsteps echoed around him. 

He wasn’t sure, but the pained quiet that surrounded the vampire hinted to something breaking. Something tore apart and smashed to pieces. Grian wanted to chase after his friend, to apologise, but the fear for Ren’s life kept him stood in place. He couldn’t move for the force of it. 

Iskall stepped forward then and as Grian glanced up to the man he gulped in fear at the sight that he saw. Iskall’s face was stony, ashen and filled with something akin to betrayal. He stared at both lycans before he leant closer to Impulse. “This has never been about race.” He snarled, tongue biting angrily. 

“I know, and I don’t think it is either.” Impulse replied softly but was met with nothing but a shake of Iskall’s head.

“Mumbo cares for your cousin. He’s known Ren for years. Don’t you think he’s hurting too?” Iskall huffed out, the words were laced with disappointment that was only hammered home as the Swede stared at Grian for a moment before he too twisted around and followed where Mumbo had gone.

The two watched him go before Grian rounded on Impulse. “Why did you do that?” He hissed at the other. “You just… You…”

“I couldn’t let them hear what I’m about to say.”

At Impulse’s words, Grian’s mouth slapped closed as an air of confusion settled upon him. He shook his head. “I don’t have much time to chat. I don’t--” But before he could finish his sentence, Impulse interrupted.

“Etho’s brother was captured by the Lumenguard.”

Grian’s eyes widened at that, Impulse said it so matter of factly that the blond barely had the chance to process it, but once he had, when those words finally sunk into his head, his last words to the white-haired man stuck out starkly in his mind.

“Oh god… I… I said something awful to him. Could you tell him I’m sorry?” Grian muttered, although his heart was so filled with worries, worry about Ren’s safety, Mumbo’s feelings and now to add Etho’s own hurt onto his turmoil, the blond could hardly stand it. 

“No. I can’t.” Impulse shook his head. “He’s not here.” Grian’s brows tightened then as he shook his head. 

“What do you mean? He was just upstairs with me?”

“He’s gone to get Ren.”

That piece of information hit Grian like a freight train. “What? Why? I never asked him to…” He muttered softly, throat thick with emotion. 

“I know, mate. But he… Etho knows what it’s like to lose someone and he… Well, I don’t know why, but he’s like that…”

“Is he…?”

Impulse gave a small smirk at that as he nodded. “He’ll be alright. He’s lived through a whole lot worse and done a lot of things through his life, some of which he refuses to speak about. If anyone can get Ren, it would be him.” Impulse paused then, a thought playing across his face. “Maybe you should speak to Mumbo though. He looked pretty distraught.”

Grian nodded at that, although he could never hope to convey the gravity of his emotions, the fear for not only Ren but Etho too, the guilt that slapped him so thoroughly at the thought of Mumbo and the overwhelming feel of ignorance that swayed through his chest.

His eyes stung then, burned with a well of tears that rose and clouded his vision. Grian’s face crumpled as all his emotions came crashing down around him. His shoulders bent inwards and shook with his cries as he began to quietly sob. 

Through the darkness, Impulse’s gentle touch was the only source of light as Grian cried, he was pulled into Impulse’s chest and held there, a soothing hand rubbed against his back as Impulse cooed from above him.

“It’s going to be alright, pup.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this one, it was a little longer than I'd anticipated but I hope you all enjoy it anyway :D
> 
> I have also added a lore post on AO3, it's been added onto this one as a part of a series, so if you'd like to check it out, that would be awesome!
> 
> I am also going to be releasing a New Years songfic tonight (I'm not sure what time) but I hope you all enjoy it if you like songfics.
> 
> Anyway, happy new year to everyone and I hope 2021 bring you all happiness :D
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D


	17. A Whole World Of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I am writing this to you as snow is peacefully falling outside my bedroom window. It's so beautiful and I honestly can't really remember a time that I wrote while it snowed. I am so happy that I am doing it while writing this story to you all!
> 
> I honestly love this chapter, it's a little slower than the others and while my plan dictated that it would be only between 1000 to 2000 words, it actually came out at a whopping 3336!
> 
> I just wrote through this without editing (I obviously edited it in the end) but I normally go back and read after each paragraph and edit it. This is literally just free flow... and to be honest, I bet some of you can tell ^.^
> 
> Anyway, I hope you're all enjoying the fledgeling stages of 2021!
> 
> Stay safe and happy reading!

Echoes of voices rang through the air and ricochetted off the walls that lined the hallway. The joy that existed in those sounds seemed so far away as laughter and animated words punctured the bubble that surrounded Grian.

There were no windows in this part of the castle, but it had barely been a few hours since he’d been outside with Etho. But to Grian, it felt as though it’d been an age. 

The door was shut but where the blond stared at the wood, he was almost certain that he’d burn two eye-shaped holes. Behind the door and in the room, Grian could make out muted voices, soft sounds that echoed with something akin to sadness. 

Grian knew that Mumbo was in there, he’d seen the direction in which the man had fled. He remembered what had made him run in the first place and while Grian ducked his head under the weight of his guilt, he couldn’t allow himself to leave his friend like this.

The hall was barely lit and the shadows that danced across the brickwork were the only companions that stood by Grian’s side, along with the ghosts that lurked in the darkest corners of the castle.

It was as if an army of men were hanging off Grian’s arm as he raised it to knock at the door. But before his knuckles could touch the raw grain of the wood, it swept open. 

His eyes widened in shock, terror and something that shook him so deep in his chest that it made Grian want to flee. Panic settled over his mind as three words were repeated over and over again in his mind.

_ Don’t be Mumbo _

_ Don’t be Mumbo _

_ Don’t be Mumbo _

Candlelight bathed the room behind the man who stood in the doorway, but Grian’s scrunched expression blurred the man’s identity and hid it from him. He could barely recognise who it was, but while he slowly relaxed details began to reach his brain. 

A beard carpeted the man’s jawline and chin, pale skin stretched over years of built muscle. A green hoodie wrapped around his torso and as Grian slowly took in the man’s features, he realised, with much relief that it was Iskall and not Mumbo. 

With a silent prayer to whatever deity had granted Grian’s mantra, he peaked behind the Swede and in the back of the room, sat behind a desk and slumped over was Mumbo, his head held in his hands. 

Grian only caught a glimpse of the vampire before Iskall closed the door slightly and turned in a way that blocked Grian’s view. Cerulean irises flicked up to the Swede’s face and what he found there was more painful than any stab wound, bullet or punch could have been. 

Pure and unadulterated disappointment flooded through Iskall’s eyes and that strong putrid feel was injected directly into Grian’s heart, not that he needed any further self-deprecating thoughts. 

Iskall’s brows rose high on his forehead in a silent demand for Grian to move. The blond stumbled backwards at the sheer force of Iskall’s disapproval. 

It was like a wave, like a tsunami of protective brotherhood, although that protection was not extended to Grian and instead surrounded the hurting Mumbo who resided further in the room. Iskall shut the door as he stepped out into the hall. 

The two men stood face to face for what felt like a millennium, thousands of words spilt between their eyes as they were connected and fixed on one another. Grian worried his lower lip before taking a deep stabilising breath, he opened his mouth to speak.

But just as he did so, Iskall interjected. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” The light-hearted Swedish accent that usually accompanied Iskall’s words had turned harsh and hurtful, abrasive like the teeth of a saw blade as they cut through Grian’s supple flesh.

The blond’s head ducked again as he muttered out something that even he couldn’t decipher. Iskall gave a breathy sneer, ignoring Grian’s unintelligible chuntering as he stepped forward, invading the younger man’s space. Grian ducked his head and for a moment, he was almost certain that Iskall would press his nose to his. 

“Why don’t you find someone of your own kind?” Those words, the repetition of Impulse’s suggestion hit Grian like a slap across the cheek. He almost flew back at the strength that hid so ominously in each annunciation of the question. Before Grian could even begin to utter a defence, the man was speaking once more. “Maybe they’d understand you because I certainly don’t.” 

And with that, Iskall was gone and nothing but his echoing footsteps gave away any suggestion that he’d been stood with Grian at all. “Iskall wait.” The words left Grian’s lips before he had the chance to hold them tight, before he’d had the chance to barricade his own mouth. 

The Swede stopped in his tracks. He paused for a moment and Grian half suspected that the man would simply ignore him and continue walking away. But instead, he twisted around and blasted the blond with yet another disgusted glare. 

The expression that Iskall wore was like the helmet to a suit of armour. Grian was half surprised that the man had stopped at all, but as much as he wanted to dismiss himself and allow Iskall to leave with the same air of disappointment that lingered in every fibre of the man’s being, he knew he couldn’t squander this moment. 

He swallowed what little courage he had and his throat ached at the slicing that it endured as he did so. His eyes remained downcast before he finally felt the strength blossom within his chest and he lifted them. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered finally, but before he could elaborate, Iskall scoffed at him and prepared to fire the man down before he had the chance to expand on said apology. 

“No please, let me speak.” Grian heard the begging tone that punctuated his words and he hated it. He hated that he sounded so weak, so small, but most of all he hated that he’d landed himself in this unfortunate position. 

Iskall shifted his weight to one hip as he crossed his arms over his chest. When Grian didn’t immediately speak, the vampire gave a huff of impatience as he raised an expectant brow. “Go on then.” He prompted, irritation hanging heavily through his voice.

“I-I don’t believe in the racial differences between us, Iskall. I’m sorry for what Impulse said, but I’m more sorry for not saying anything to oppose him.” Grian’s head dipped as the full force of his shame barrelled into him.

It was almost as if he hadn’t truly felt the gravity of his guilt until he articulated it to one of the people he’d hurt. He clenched his eyes and willed away the frightened child that begged him to flee, that ushered him to run away from this. He had to face what he’d done. 

“I’m sorry for what happened with Mumbo too.” He added then. When no response immediately came, Grian glanced up then, peaking through his golden fringe. Iskall was hunched, the bridge of his nose was held between his thumb and forefinger and although he didn’t reveal the huffing sigh, Grian could feel it’s existence in every ounce of his being. 

“Grian.” Iskall addressed him then, and the disgust was notably absent. The softer tones hooked their fingers under Grian’s chin and lifted his head to stare directly at the man. “I’m not upset.” He clarified then. 

“B-But you --”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m thoroughly pissed at you.” Iskall interrupted the soft bleated half question from Grian. As he spoke a fire blazed in his eyes and Grian shrunk back at the sight of it. “I’ve been a vampire for hundreds of years. I’ve seen the blood feud, I’ve fought in it. Lycans and vampires are different and to say otherwise would be a lie.” Iskall paused then, his lips skewed as he rallied his thoughts. “But that’s not why I’m pissed at you.”

Grian’s brow twitched then as he took in what Iskall had said. “Then why?” He asked softly and almost childlike as confusion continued to settle deep in his sternum. 

“I’m angry because of how you treated Mumbo. He’s my best friend and a very great man. He…” Iskall paused as his words trailed off, Grian could see the colours flitting behind the man’s eyes and he wanted to reach out, wanted to touch that rainbow wheel of thought, but he couldn’t. The fear of what he’d see was too much of an incentive to remain exactly where he was. 

“He has helped me through the worst times of my life.” Iskall added sincerely. “And for you to say… To treat him like that?”

“But I didn’t mean to!” The words ruptured from Grian’s throat before he had a chance to catch them. Iskall’s mouth clicked shut at his outburst and fell quiet. For a moment, Grian was certain that he’d just ruined whatever communication he was having with the man. “I-I’m sorry, I--”

“How do you feel about him?”

That question hit the blond so unexpectedly that Grian’s face performed a somersault of different expressions. His brows furrowed and for a moment he felt completely exposed. He rubbed the back of his neck as he tugged at his thoughts and tried to form a coherent answer.

An entire dictionary of vast words flew to the blond’s mind as he thought of his feelings towards the moustached vampire. The man had been present in Grian’s life since his very first memory and for the longest time, he’d been nothing but a mystery.

An icon of myths, legends, the very thing that drew Grian closer. He was the cheese on a mousetrap. But what he’d ended up becoming is something far more. He was a friend, a companion a-- 

Words could never begin to describe the man and while Grian tried his damndest to express how he felt, everything came up short. 

Grian wished he could consult Robert Cawdrey himself, wished he could ask the man how he would define such a man as Mumbo Jumbo. But the blond was fearful that the founder of the first English dictionary would also come back with a blank. 

“Mumbo was once a whispered name to me, but now… He’s shown me a new life, given me a brand new world and for that, I could never begin to repay him.” 

As the words began to flow from Grian, he struggled to stop them, it was as if a beaver had just opened his dam and now, as he spoke to Iskall, the water flowed so euphoniously that he could hardly hope to stop them. 

“He’s not just my friend… He’s…” And that was where he halted, the words stuttered in his mind. He could hardly begin to decipher what censor had spread its blurred lines across his internal thesaurus. But he couldn’t say the words that so daintily hung off the tip of his tongue. 

Iskall’s face softened at that. The expression that he saw on the man’s features made Grian realise that maybe he didn’t have to explain, maybe he didn’t have to say a thing because somehow Iskall just new. 

“He likes flowers.”

Whatever Grian had expected Iskall to say, it most definitely wasn’t that. His eyes boggled and his brows raised so high on his head that they faced a danger of entangling with his hair. “What?” He muttered out dumbly. 

Iskall gave a knowing chuckle as he shrugged. “He’d deny it until the very end, but he likes flowers.” The Swede gave a contented sigh as he stepped towards Grian. The blond had to stop himself from backing away, as Iskall approached. A warm hand settled on his shoulder. “Mumbo is upset right now, but you need to speak with him.” 

Grian gave a small nod, still taken aback at the sudden shift in mood. He was almost certain that he would have whiplash after such a change, but as Iskall spoke so softly to him, he merely showed his understanding in a sharp dip of his chin before the man pulled away. 

“Oh and Grian?” The blond twisted to face him once more. “Tell him how you feel.” And with that Iskall gave a wink before turning the corner and disappearing from Grian’s sight. 

Heat rose to Grian’s cheeks as Iskall’s last words settled in his mind. How could he tell the man how he felt? The last thing Grian wanted to do was scare him away. Besides, as much as Iskall thought he knew Mumbo, he could never truly understand the delicate relationship that strung Grian and Mumbo together. 

The intricacies were as fragile as spider’s silk. If Grian revealed anything of such magnitude and gravity to Mumbo, he’d surely break whatever friendship existed between them or once existed between them. 

Grian’s eyes fell on the door once more as a heavy lump formed in his throat. Nothing was confirmed yet, as far as the blond new, the companionship that the two had once felt between them could have been dashed to the ground. 

In such a fatal move, on Grian’s part, he may have destroyed the one thing that kept him tethered in Mumbo’s life. He swallowed past the lump and rapped his knuckles against the door.

Without a second’s delay, Mumbo’s voice called out through the wooden panel that separated the two men. Grian’s brows clenched together as his eyes squeezed shut. Fear, anxiety and a boatload of other demons hung onto Grian’s consciousness as he divvied outside the door. 

“Come in.” The voice called again and the sound that lingered in the letters that were uttered out of Mumbo’s mouth told tales of such agony that hung through the man’s own mind.

Grian pushed open the door and peeked inside.

The room was an office of sorts. Bookshelves lined the walls and a fake bearskin rug laid flat out across the floor, a large window stretched open and filled a hole in the wall behind Mumbo and a thick, heavy wooden desk stood between the two men.

“Grian.” 

The lycan’s name spilt out of Mumbo’s mouth in a gasp. Mumbo immediately sat bolt upright and straightened his hair. Grian distantly mused that the vampire could never have looked in the shambles that appeared in Mumbo’s own self-perception. 

But if those words had existed in Grian’s mouth, they were never spoken as the blond silently entered the room and took a seat opposite the man. 

A quiet veil hung over the two as they sat facing one another, their eyes stroked over their skin and a wordless conversation elapsed in the time that they spent with their mouths closed. 

“I… Mumbo.” Grian interrupted the heavy silence that hung there, punctured it with the dagger that he spat out. Mumbo’s eyes flicked to Grian’s as he gave a small nod, encouraging the blond to continue. 

“As you know, Ren is my cousin. But…” Grian paused then, once again the words had escaped him. He gave a distant glance to the other side of the room as if inspiration could be hidden there. He gave a soft sigh before he continued. “He’s my friend, he always has been. Since we were children, Ren has been by my side and I… I… He’s basically a brother to me.”

Grian’s eyes settled on Mumbo then and what he saw was nothing like what he’d expected to bear witness to. Tears shone in Mumbo’s eyes, their wet twinkling shimmered at his lids and threatened to spill over and trickle down his face. A small smile lingered at his lips and whispered something so sweet and barely tangible that Grian wanted to cup it in his hands and hold it close to him. 

“That’s exactly how Ren described you to me.”

Those words stood there like a third man, their weight and gravity were so forceful that Grian’s own eyes began to prickle with tears that remained unshed. He sniffled and wiped away the remnants of his emotions with the sleeve of his jumper. 

“When you first approached me in the tavern, Ren knew. He knew where you’d gone and in fact, had anticipated it. He came to me before you’d even left his house. He met me at my manor back in Chagford while you were asleep and spoke to me. He told me all about you, told me who you were and…” 

Mumbo fell silent then as his eyes became vacant. Grian knew that Mumbo wasn’t present in the room with him. As he described the events that had transpired prior to Grian’s meeting with him at the tavern, Mumbo existed there, in a memory that should have been long forgotten. 

“He asked me to promise him something, no... He begged me to keep you safe.” Mumbo muttered, correcting himself halfway through. “That under no circumstances should you ever come to harm.”

Grian’s jaw clenched at that, because of course Ren would say something like that, would ask Mumbo to do such a thing. It was exactly what Grian would have done. But before Grian could admit to such a thing, Mumbo resumed. “I remember thinking that he was a fool.”

Grian’s brow twitched at that, but as Mumbo continued to speak, he couldn’t help but agree with the man. “That while he knew of your future and what you were to become, I thought that he was silly to ever believe that you would be free of danger.”

Mumbo paused then, and Grian remained silent. He knew that Mumbo was far from finished in telling this story, this truth. Grian worried his lower lip as Mumbo began speaking anew. 

Although as the words were spilt from the man’s mouth those tears that had been barely held back dribbled over. They slowly slipped down Mumbo’s pale cheeks and dampened his moustached, leaving behind a glistening trail in their wake. 

“But then I realised that he was never trying to protect you from  _ your  _ future, he was trying to protect you from his own.”

Mumbo reached into his pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. He delicately dabbed away his tears before he spoke again. “He knew that while I could keep you safe, I could enlist a thousand men and women to stand before you.” He gestured to the door, signalling to the army of immortals who resided outside the office. 

“None of that would matter if he himself was in danger.”

Mumbo gave a small sniffle as he continued to wipe away his tears, a failing attempt as more replaced the droplets of emotion, as soon as the first lot had been vanquished more took their place. 

“He knew that you would go for him, that you would lay down your life in his stead. He knew your importance to our kind and he didn’t want that to happen. That is why I tried to stop you.”

Silence befell the two as Mumbo’s story came to a close. Both men sat together sniffling and whimpering as their tears fell from their cheeks in fallen droplets of respect to the man who they’d lost from their side. 

Ren was never a man of greatness, was never someone who commanded such regard, but he was family, a friend and someone who had always received admiration from the two main figures in his life. 

Grian’s lips tugged into a smile as a small tearful laugh tinkled through the air and tore from his chest. He shook his head as he scrubbed his cheeks dry. “We’re fucking idiots.” He declared sadly. “Idiots who don’t communicate.”

As he said that, Mumbo’s own laugh joined his as the room erupted into breathy giggles. “I wonder what would be achieved if we did speak to each other.”

Grian’s eyes twinkled with peaceful mirth as he considered Mumbo’s question. “Oh, a whole world of secrets would be revealed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we are! Chapter 17! I honestly can't believe how far this story has come and I can't wait until I publish Chapter 20! I don't really know why but Chapter 20 is always a milestone for me in every book :D but either way, I hope you've enjoyed the 16 other chapters that came before this one :D
> 
> I'd like to say a massive thank you to everyone who has left me kudos, your support is invaluable to me!
> 
> And then there are the commenters! My screaming, complimenting and sweet comments that I get on every chapter that I post! Honestly, you guys are the fuel to my writing and I can't even truly begin to express how much you all mean to me.
> 
> To be honest, I think Mumbo puts it rather eloquently, 'Appreciate ya!'
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope you all liked this chapter and if you did, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts!


	18. This Is... Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> I'm sorry for not posting recently, I've had some horrendous writer's block as well as some personal issues that I've had to sort. But I am back up and running, I have a clear mind and I'm ready to go!
> 
> This chapter was written and posted at 1:40 am, so please excuse any errors... I am very tired XD
> 
> But anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, happy reading :D

A vast flash of cyan coated the sky like a fresh new coat, draped off its shoulders that were so slack and carefree, it seemed almost wrong as Grian stared at the man before him. 

The room was darkened by the shade of the curtains that were hung over the windows, their blackened material was the eyeshadow that glittered gently in the corner of Grian’s eyes. 

Although it wasn’t cold in the room, the embers of the fire still clicked and crackled in the hearth beside the three men. 

An iron tint hung in the air like the chain from a man’s wallet, it hooked around the belt loop and disappeared in the endless pocket, hiding in the air like gentle perfume. It was the remnants of dinner, blood-stained chalices, gore littered platters. 

The dining hall looked reminiscent to the set of a b-roll horror movie but those sights didn’t plague the men’s eyes as they stayed huddled on the thick armchairs that stood in the sitting room across the foyer from the dining hall. 

Grian’s lips were tightly held together in a thin white line. His eyes were glossed over as his throat clenched he stared across the room to Mumbo. 

Mumbo was as pale as ever, dressed in his usual immaculate black suit and red tie, he leant against the far wall, head dipped and shoulders hunched as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Sat opposite Grian and almost folded in the chair was a man who the young lycan had come to know as his friend. Etho’s shock of white hair stood out in the room like a beacon of artificial light. Like a 100 lumen light bulb. 

“I-I’m so sorry.” Etho’s voice trembled as he spoke, his familiar deep tones were rich and mellow as they always were, except this time they shook with a pain that Grian could feel because his heart fluttered in time with each break of Etho’s words. 

Grian shook his head and wiped at his eyes. A soft tearful gasped snicker bled out between his lips as he covered his snotty nose and damp cheeks with the palm of his hand. 

“So you found him?” He asked again, it felt like the hundredth time, his throat hurt with the repeated words, but he had to ask, was compelled to ask because each time Etho answered it seemed eve more like a strange alternate reality. 

Etho’s jaw dropped as he prepared to reply to the same question, although before Etho could speak, Mumbo interrupted. “No. Run us through it again.” 

Grian’s head peaked up and he wanted to glance across the room to the moustached vampire, but the very thought of staring at the man, of exposing himself to those still raw emotions and letting them mix with these fresher more painful feelings. It was too much. 

In the corner of the blond’s sight, he saw Etho shake his head slowly before he gave a nod of acceptance and began to speak. 

Grian wanted to scream at him, to yell for him to be quiet, to not say any more. But he couldn’t the very prospect of speaking was terrifying, although not as terrifying as hearing this story again. 

He reached out to the arms of the chair that he perched in, his knuckles whitened as he gripped harder, holding on for dear life as if he were about to be plunged into a death drop, as if he were on a rollercoaster. 

“I found Ren. He had been recruiting in the far south, near Somerset. He was about to head to Wales when he realised that he was being followed.” A soft croak erupted from Grian’s throat and Etho paused as both he and Mumbo stared at the young lycan. 

Feeling the two pairs of eyes on him, Grian gave a soft clearing of his throat before he met Etho’s eyes and nodded for the man to continue. 

“He was being followed by the guard.” Etho glanced to Grian and gave a soft half-smile before he corrected himself. “The Lumenguard. He was hiding in the woods, feeding off small rodents, deer, sheep… Whatever he could get hold of. I tried to tell him that I was there to get him, to bring him back… To you, but…” 

It was time for Etho’s voice to break then as his head dipped between his shoulders as if it was too heavy to hold up. Grian’s mouth twitched, he could understand the pain that poured through the man’s words. He felt it too.

“I tried to tell him, but he… He was convinced that if he were to come back, we’d both lead the guard here. I told him that we could take them on, they were only a small patrol, about four or five of them? At most… But he knew that they’d gotten close. He said that they’d almost caught him in a farmer’s field.” 

A small pitiful laugh fell from Etho’s lips as he shook his head, almost in denial as he prepared to continue speaking. “Which is fucking ridiculous… Thousands of years and… We are still reduced to picking off farm animals… The very thing that…” He stopped himself. Grian’s eyes flicked up to the man then and the two shared a silent and wordless conversation. 

“Sorry.” Etho cleared his throat. “Anyway, I tried to convince him to allow me to distract them, to lead them away, but he said that they knew his face. Said that they’d track him anyway. I wanted to disagree, but before we could talk anymore we heard footsteps, they were so close, Grian. So damn close.” 

Etho’s fist closed then as he rested it on his thigh, it was as if he was preparing to punch through the muscle and bone. As if he were about to shatter his limb. But he didn’t. When he didn’t move, he resumed speaking.

“I was literally about to jump up and lead them away, fight them? I don’t know… I was going to do something anyway, but before I could, Ren was already up, he’d jumped out of our hiding spot and confronted them. He…”

Etho’s voice failed him then and as Grian glanced up to him, there was a small part of the blond that was happy to sear a tear roll down Etho’s cheek. Although he knew the man felt such remorse, such guilt, there was a part of Grian that felt some form of joy at seeing him suffer for what he’d done. Or didn’t do, in this case.

“He let them take him, he didn’t fight, even as they beat him and struck him with cattle prods. He let them. But his eyes never left me. He telepathically told me to run, he was screaming it… He…” A sob choked out of Etho’s throat then as his chin wobbled. “He asked me to show you this.”

Grian’s brow twitched. Etho hadn’t said this before, yes he’d recounted this specific story almost three times and this was the first time that he’d offered to show him anything. Ochrous eyes flicked across the room and his yellow irises almost burned through the air as his gaze settled on Mumbo. It was a silent question, a plea for guidance. Mumbo nodded. 

Grian’s jaw clenched then and his teeth squeaked as they were ground together. He gave a silent inclination of his head before he shuffled forward in his seat. “How do you…?” 

Grian’s question was incomplete, the meaning behind it seemed to reach Etho and the man who had always settled into his role as a teacher gave a small comforting smile as he pushed his sleeve up and exposed his wrist. 

Grian glanced between the man’s exposed skin and his face. “Wh-What am I supposed to do?” Etho leant forward, closing the gap between them and holding his exposed flesh in front of Grian’s face. 

“Drink.” He muttered the word as if it were obvious, but the thought of biting an immortal, a lycan, the very notion repulsed the blond. He hadn’t been a lycan for long but there was something within him, an instinct that told him ‘no’, that said this was against the rules, that it was a frowned upon thing. 

“They’re my blood memories. I… Ren asked me to show you this so, I… I have to.” Etho muttered, still holding his arm out towards the blond. 

With one last uncertain glance to Mumbo, Grian reached out and took ahold of Etho’s forearm and hand, he held the man steady as he leant down and just as his lips were only a hair’s distance away from him and Grian could feel Etho trembling under the soft whispers of touches from his quivering lips, he stared back up to him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

It was a simple answer, but the only one that Grian required as he reached down and latched his mouth over the man’s wrist. His skin was soft against his tongue, so silky smooth that Grian was almost shocked. He’d heard that Etho had battled in his life, that he’d fought hard and fearless men and women. Grian was shocked at how soft the man felt, he was almost certain that there should have been scars there. 

His canines grew and he bit into Etho’s arm, a sickening tear of skin was the only warning that Grian had before the taste hit him. Etho’s blood was so sweet, so dangerously enticing and in that moment, Grian knew why it was forbidden to feast on an immortal. They tasted so good, so delicious and just one could never have been enough to sate his thirst. 

But, Grian knew he wasn’t drinking the man to feed, he was suckling to see. And see he did. 

_ Murky fog laced the ground like a low denier stocking stretched over and lady’s calf. It trickled and bled out through the land around him. Emerald shrubbery brushed against his body as he was bent low in the undergrowth, chin tucked down and close to the mud below him.  _

_ Trees stood high, as if they were reaching up and balanced on their tippy toes. Their canopies stretched over him like an umbrella and although there wasn’t any rain, he knew that if it were to start, he’d remain dry from the sheer coverage of the leaves above. _

_ Hunched over in front of him was Etho, his legs were stretched out behind him and his head peeked up just enough that he could peer over the thick shrubs that surrounded him. Grian almost called out to the man, but before he could, the sickening scream of Ren’s voice echoed through him. _

_ His mind was filled with the voice that he’d grown up knowing, the same timbre and decadence. He knew this voice, knew it as if it were his own. His cousin, his brother, but most of all his friend. It was as if he was speaking directly to him and not through Etho. _

_ “Grian.” The voice echoed.  _

_ “Grian I hope you’re listening to this. But I need you to know that the fight isn’t over. Whatever happens to me, you need to be strong. I need you to be the king that I know you are. I need you to lead them, to guide our kin along with Mumbo.” _

_ Grian couldn’t see his cousin, he wasn’t sure where the man was, he presumed that he was held somewhere behind the shrubbery, but wherever Ren was, it didn’t matter, because his essence with him, in him, ricochetting around his skull. _

_ “If I’m alive then I will see you soon, but if I’m not you still need to fight. Grandfather and Mumbo’s father will awaken soon and when they do we all need to be ready. You and Mumbo most of all.”  _

_ Ren paused then. It was as if the man’s voice had been cut off by a weight so strong that it could hold back a tsunami. Grian almost didn’t want to continue listening, but he knew he had to. Knew that was what Ren wanted.  _

_ “The Lumenguard are in England. They’re here with us now and you all need to get to Italy. You all need to fight the Lumenguard and end them.” _

_ Ren’s voice broke as he gave a pained gasp. Grian wanted to shout at whoever had hurt him, but as he moved to stand, he realised that he wasn’t actually there, that this was nothing more than a memory, a memory that wasn’t his own. He was at the mercy of Etho’s past self. Whatever Etho saw or did, that was all Grian was limited to. The blond wanted to scream at Etho, yell at him to move, but as any memory or dream. Grian’s voice was silent.  _

_ When Ren continued to speak, his words were hurried, rushed, as if he were running out of time. Grian’s eyes slipped shut as he silently begged to whatever cruel deity was out there that they’d help his cousin, save him from whatever mess this was.  _

_ “I’ve tipped off the last few lycans and vampires who are willing to join us. They’ll meet you in Matera, Basilicata. I’ve made contact with our kin there and they’ll meet you, you’ll know what to do.”  _

_ A pained cry sounded through Grian’s ears and he knew that it wasn’t just a telepathic whimper but one that Etho heard, one that came from Ren’s lips. Images of cattle prods and knives shattered through the blond’s mind, but he had to push those images away as he focused on the man, as he listened to what could be Ren’s final words. _

_ “Travel by boat. The Lumenguard have hijacked all the major airlines and the travel companies but we have kin in Aberdeen. It will take three days by boat, but in that time you can learn your new skills. Listen to Etho, to Mumbo and the other lycans. I will be with you, if not in the flesh then in the spirit. I love you.” _

As quickly as he’d descended into Etho’s memory, he was kicked from the scene. Grian sat back in his chair, Etho’s blood trickled from his mouth and dripped onto his shirt, but as he made a crimson mess, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Ren had spoken to him. In his cousin’s last few moments before being kidnapped, his last thoughts were of him. 

_ Ren. _

“Grian what did you see?” 

Mumbo’s voice interrupted Grian’s solemn silence and as he glanced up, he took in two sights. Mumbo had moved from his distant place against the wall and was now stood between the two armchairs and Etho was hunched over, cradling his bitten arm close to his chest, a pale flush littered his skin and Grian was almost certain the man might pass out. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had his orders, had the information he needed. 

Grian’s eyes flicked up to Mumbo and he gave a silent nod. The blood was cold against the skin of his chin and lips but he ignored it. Ignored everything except the last few words that echoed through his mind. 

_ I love you. _

Grian’s head dipped as tears stung at his eyes. “I love you too, Ren.” He whispered softly. 

“What?” Mumbo sputtered out but Grian just shook his head before he stared at the two before him. 

“We’re going to Italy. We’re going to war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my silly grammatical and other errors didn't detract from anyone's enjoyment as I said, it's very early in the morning (or very late at night... IDEK anymore XD) 
> 
> But I do hope that you enjoyed this chapter and if you did, I'd love to hear what you've got to say. (Or read in this case)
> 
> But as always, please consider leaving kudos if you enjoyed this chapter and if you really loved it then please consider leaving a comment to let me know your thoughts ^.^


	19. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> I'm so sorry for not posting until now. I've just not been able to move past this horrid writer's block, although, I think I may have worked through it. 
> 
> I have so many ideas for future chapters and I think you may enjoy them!
> 
> Thank you all so far for all your support and I really hope you like this chapter as much as the others. I do think that it's not up to my usual standard, but I think that's down to working through this writer's block.
> 
> Anyway, as always, stay safe and happy reading!

It was almost poetic how Grian stood still and lonely in the carriage hall. While it had only been a sparse few days, it felt like a lifetime had passed since he had arrived at the castle with Mumbo and Iskall, all three about to embark on their chaotic adventure.

The sun’s nightly glow hung orange drapes across the hall; it spilt out from the large windows that stood so far up the wall that not even Mumbo or Doc would’ve been able to peer through them. Their thin panes were encased in a thick concrete and brick-filled wall. 

Having been modified by a vampire, for vampires Grian assumed that the architectural design of the high windows was purposeful. If there was one thing that Grian had already been aware of prior to his engagement with this strange world, it was that vampires were and always had been allergic to sunlight. 

The image that stood before Grian now was rather different than his first exposure to the carriage hall. Where only one lonely cart had stood in the large cavernous room, there was now a varied bunch of them, each equipt to hold several passengers and all intricately designed. 

There were at least five carriages altogether, each was decorated in ways that told the stories of their passengers. It was clear to Grian who would depart in what car. While each carriage sported the typical lancewood framing, there was one unique factor that spoke odes to the passengers who rode within them. 

The Glaswegian carriage sported a variety of Celtic knots, each one carved meticulously from fallow deer antlers and settled within the eye of each twisted bone was a gleaming Scottish topaz. The blue eye seemed unforgiving as Grian stared into its cyan pupil, with each twinkling shimmer he saw wars, lifetimes of love and many smiles that would ultimately release barrels of laughter. 

Although Iskall had driven the cart that Mumbo and Grian had once ridden in, there were no immortal creatures sat at the front of any waggon before him. Humans from neighbouring villages were perched in the drivers’ seats. Their eyes dutifully cast ahead, avoiding anything that may hint to the immortal nature of their vampiric or lycan passengers. 

“The sun was agony when I drove you both here.” Iskall’s Swedish lilt punctured the muted silence that Grian held himself in. The man’s voice carried as if he had been hooked in a conversation with the blond for minutes rather than a sparse few seconds.

The sudden declaration of Iskall’s presence shocked a wave through Grian and his hand flew to his chest as he rubbed away the floating sensation of his heart rhythmically pounding a panicked tattoo across his ribs. 

“Jesus, Iskall. Warn a guy before you sneak up on them.” Grian complained as he doubled over, supporting himself on his knees for a moment as he heaved in a deep stabilising breath. 

Iskall’s hearty chuckle resounded around the hall, and while it was already filled with the voices of other vampires and lycans, Iskall’s laughter was the only thing Grian could hear. The Swede’s meaty palm bounced across Grian’s back as Iskall patted the smaller. “Ah, I’m sorry!” He hooted. 

Iskall’s giggles were so infectious, that when Grian straightened to his full height, he couldn’t begin to hide the smile that had begun to tug at his own lips. It was then that he noticed it. While he stared into the crescent slits of Iskall’s eyes, something odd tugged at his vision and his eyes roved across his body. 

Where he usually donned casual clothes like hooded jumpers or jeans, Iskall now wore a suit that wasn’t unlike Mumbo’s own, except where the taller vampire’s was black with a red tie, Iskalls was a light green with a blue tie. 

“Where are you going? I didn’t realise we had to dress fancy.” Grian muttered teasingly as he nodded to the man’s suited attire. Iskall’s head dropped down as he inspected himself before he moved forward and lightly nudged against the blond. 

“Is there something wrong with my suit?” The question caught Grian off guard and he had to fight not to stammer out an apology. He briefly shook his head before Iskall burst into another roll of laughter and allowed his eyes to flick away from the shorter man and focus on the carriages gathered before them. 

“Do all vampires get off on this gothic theme you have going on?” 

The question was so blunt and thrown out there that Grian had to bite his lip not to laugh at the somersault of expressions that flew across Iskall’s face. “What do you mean?” He asked not taking his eyes away from the medieval vehicles ahead of them. 

Grian waved a hand out in gesture as he vaguely pointed to the carriages. “Well the horse and carts, the castles…” He paused before an amused expression tugged at his lips. “The suits.” 

The brunette cast a scathing joke of a glare at him before Iskall shrugged and shook his head in a silent ‘I have no idea’. Grian huffed out a baffled sigh. “I just thought, we’re all trying to remain inconspicuous and here we are, in a castle, wearing posh suits and riding in carts that haven't been used in centuries.”

Silence passed between them as Iskall’s mind rolled the query through his mind. Grian watched him, his amusement building to a precipice that enlightened a feather-like feeling in his belly. “You have a point…” Iskall mused then. “Tradition?”

The word echoed through Grian’s mind and a pistol shot through his memories. The hissing of the gun barrel stung his ears as he was transported to an unfamiliar place. The glow of familiarity struck him with full force as an unfamiliar voice boomed through his mind. 

_ “I suppose it’s for tradition.” A man spoke calmly, although his tone held something akin to mournful.  _

_ “He hated guns and you know that. They’re a horrendous invention that only those who don’t know how to wield a sword use.” Etho’s voice replied through Grian’s mouth and his lips moved without his command. It was as if the blond was a mere passenger within himself.  _

_ “Possibly, but it’s still tradition.” _

“Grian?” Iskall’s hand wafted before his eyes and as sudden as he delved into the artificial recollection, he has been transported back to reality. Grian’s brow furrowed as his eyes scrunched closed. A fuzzy fluff-filled his skull, it was as if he was a plush teddy. 

“That was weird.” Grian muttered to himself before he glanced back to Iskall, his eyes shone with expectance and an amused mask covered his face. The corner of Grian’s mouth twitched up as his gaze narrowed on the man. 

“What?”

“Where did you go?” Iskall asked, although his words were filled with more concern than his expression let on.

“I…” Grian paused then. How could he answer a question to which he didn’t know the answer to. “Iskall?”

Iskall’s eyes were focused on the scene before them, he gave an absent hum in response to the blond’s question. 

“What are blood memories?”

“Blood memories?” As he repeated Grian, his stare - now rather concerned - fixed on the man before him. “What do you mean?”

Before Grian could answer his friend, Etho’s voice crackled through the hall as both he and Mumbo stepped through the large main door that connected the rest of the castle to this garage-esque room. 

“So, I’ll make sure we all meet at the docks?” 

The two men were buried deep in their own conversation as they came to a stop beside Grian and Iskall. It wasn’t until Etho’s eyes flicked behind the moustached vampire and landed on Grian that he paused for a moment. 

“Grian?” The impatience was evident in the man’s tone as he prompted Grian to respond to him. “Grian what did you mean?” 

The memories of his meeting with Etho earlier loomed in the forefront of Grian’s mind as he stared at the white-haired man. “Don’t worry about it.” He muttered across to the Swede, effectively dismissing him from the conversation as his attention fixed on Etho. 

It seemed that it wasn’t a onesided silent interaction because Etho’s own gaze filtered passed Mumbo and landed on Grian. “Yeah, I’ll sort it.” Etho muttered lowly before he sidestepped passed Mumbo and closed the distance between himself and Grian. 

The man donned his usual attire, except now, he had a bandage covering the wrist that Grian remembered drinking from only hours ago. 

Etho seemed to stand silently before Grian for the longest time and the blond half expected him to remain completely mute. His brows furrowed as he watched the white-haired lycan. “Yes?” Grian prompted. 

The one-word question knocked the other from whatever silent reverie he’d been held in because Etho’s head dipped as he stared at his shoes. “I’m sorry.”

Grian’s eyes boggled at that. Whatever he’d expected the other to say, it was definitely not an apology. “What for?” Grian’s mind raced through the possible reasons. “Ren?”

Etho’s head slowly shook before he shifted his injured wrist at his side. Grian’s eyes dropped to the bandage. “Why hasn’t it healed?” Grian asked. 

“It depends on how much blood has been drunk.” Etho explained, although his tone held an awkwardness to it, it almost sounded stale as it fled his lips. “Grian, listen. I’m sorry that you had to do that. It’s… Well, it’s illegal to drink from an immortal for a reason.”

Sickening anxiety settled at the base of Grian’s chest as he considered the information that Etho had just laid before him. His lips tightened to a thin white line as he glared down to the bandaged wrist once more. “What do you mean?”

Although the question didn’t sound preposterous to the blond, it must have sounded so for Etho because the man gave a buoyant chuckle before slapping Grian’s shoulder with his uninjured limb. “You have much to learn, pup.” 

Etho had called him that endearment several times and while before it had always been spoken with a light tone, Etho’s words were now heavy and laden with a message that Grian couldn’t begin to decipher. He wanted to ask more, probe deeper, but there was a large part of the blond that was afraid of what he might find if he did so. 

“I’d say that if you have any questions come to me, but…” Etho paused as Impulse’s voice crackled across the hall. He glanced across to the Scottish carriage. Impulse and Stress leaned out of the window, each sported the same beaming smile of excitement on their faces. 

Grian’s eyes flicked back to the white-haired lycan before him and his jaw clenched. Etho had never appeared to be one who held such negative emotions and feels, although the man who stood before him was a man who was weighed down with something so heavy and solid that even Grian could feel the magnitude of it. A fake smile spread across Etho’s face as he backed away from Grian and slowly began to close the gap between himself and the Glaswegian cart. 

“Like I was saying, I would ask if you had any questions, but I think I’ve given you all you need to know.”

The sentence was wrong. Wrong on so many levels. Grian’s eyes widened. Something important was just told to him and he couldn’t even begin to understand what Etho meant. His brows clenched close together as he stepped forward, chasing after the fleeing man. “Etho wait.” He asked, although he’d already boarded the carriage and closed the door. 

Grian’s head dipped as a small frustrated growl rumbled in his throat. “See you later, pup.” The words were shouted from the window as the human cracked his whip and sent the horses hurtling away. Grian’s eyes narrowed on the back of the cart, glaring at those Celtic knots as Etho and the Glaswegian lycans slowly travelled away and into the distance.

“Fuck.” Grian hissed quietly, fists clenched at his sides. 

“Everything alright?” Mumbo’s voice broke through the veil of irritation that surrounded Grian and for that moment, it was as if the moustached vampire was the one beacon of light that washed away all the fear and annoyance that flushed through Grian’s soul. 

His brows furrowed as he stared at the other. He wanted nothing more than to tug him close, pull him in for a kiss because this man, this beautiful, elegant and frankly ridiculous man was someone who had not only answered so many of his old questions but in the long drive that awaited them, could answer all his future ones too. 

Grian’s eyes widened as he realised the gravity of his thoughts. The idea of actually pulling Mumbo close and pressing their lips together was not unappealing, but rather too enticing. It was something that Grian wasn’t ready to decipher even when his mind wasn’t filled with another’s memories and thoughts. Even when he wasn’t battling something that was so old and lost to time that he was on the end of a losing battle. 

_ What had Etho meant when he said ‘I’ve given you all you need to know’? _

_ Why did he apologise for allowing me to drink from him? _

_ And rather most importantly, why haven’t I realised how much I wanted to kiss Mumbo until now? _

While the turmoil raged through Grian’s mind, he was ignorant to the silence that had blustered between both him and Mumbo, it wasn’t apparent until the man gave a small awkward cough. The sound tugged Grian from his thoughts. 

“Iskall is riding with Doc and the others, it leaves one carriage for you and I.” Mumbo muttered, nodding to the last remaining waggon. Its lancewood was just as apparent as the others, except this one, was possibly the most beautiful of all the carriages Grian had seen. It seemed to be plated with golden and silver swirls. The precious metals merged together in the centre of the vehicle in a soft unifying knot. 

“Shall we?” Mumbo asked as he motioned towards the cart. Grian glanced up to the man. This, this was easy to decipher. The blond gave a grin and nodded as he reached forward and tugged open the door.

“Together.” He hummed. Mumbo’s eyes lit up brightly as he stared down to Grian. He gave a soft nod and the blond was certain that a soft pink tinge coated the man’s cheeks. Mumbo dipped his head as he whispered one last word before boarding the carriage. 

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this has a bit of lore, some hidden information and quite a bit of cheese at the end. 
> 
> What did you all think?
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below, so as I always end my chapters: If you enjoyed then please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know if you liked this chapter :D


	20. Me Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so this chapter has come rather quickly after the first. I am really proud of this one. I hope you all like it too :D
> 
> Also, we have now made it to chapter 20! It's always so amazing to me when we meet this milestone. I think we're only a third of the way through the story, but we are so deep now and while there's still a whole lot to get through, we are now fully immersed into this story. Or at least I am.
> 
> I might just be waffling though, so I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy this as much I did writing it!

A swath of light dawned down from the hanging street lamps. Their bowed metal spines loomed across the pathways that lined the streets. Tarmacked roads wound their dreary tendrils through the city of Aberdeen. 

The wagon rocked from side to side as the cabin shuddered with each revolution of the wooden wheels against the uneven ground. Grian leant back against his seat as he stared out of the window. 

A day had passed and the city around him had slowly resided itself to the nightfall that was fast taking a hold of it. The sun had not long set, it's golden reaches still clung to the clouds and set their fluffy white mists alight with auburn flames. Grian watched the world around him delve into the sweet beckoning shadows. 

"Blood memories." Mumbo's voice curled around the two words, both men had held a conversation from years gone by, had spoken about everything and nothing at once; a string of endless chatter, mindless emptiness injected into words.

Grian nodded before twisting back to stare at the vampire. Since before he’d officially met Mumbo, he’d taken up so much of Grian’s thoughts and now they knew each other, both in his old life and this new strange world that he found himself, Grian couldn’t imagine not having Mumbo’s face as a permanent fixture in his mind. 

Mumbo was as beautiful as ever, pale white skin and a dash of raven in his moustache and hair, his viridescent irises shone brighter in the shadow as if they were the lightning orbs that struck earth each and every morning. 

Beauty was so relative in relation to Mumbo, Grian thought he was more akin to some romantic art from the renaissance painters, his words were that of a long-dead poet.

The man spoke odes, sang rhyme and Grian was sure that although they'd only begun their time together, he knew he'd never grow weary of the man, never grow tired of him and never burn to a crisp in his undying light. 

"Yeah." The blond hummed, his ochreous irises shone in the darkness too. Together they appeared like wild animals caught on an infrared camera, their retinas ablaze with a life that was to never be fully understood, not even David Attenborough’s soothing tones could describe them. 

"What is it you want to know?"

That was a loaded question and both of them knew it. How could Grian quantify this? He wanted to know everything, suckle on Mumbo's veins of knowledge and drink from his fountain of wisdom. 

"Etho's memories play through my mind. Why?"

Mumbo leant forward then, his gaze was fixed on something far away but close all the same. Grian tried to spy what the vampire saw, but all he could see was the far wall of the carriage. 

"Immortals are not to drink the blood of other immortals for one reason only. Blood is lives."

The last of Mumbo's words flew through Grian's mind like a strange haiku. How could this make no sense in the slightest but also be the most logical explanation he’d ever heard?

"Blood…" Grian paused as his thoughts raced through the possible interpretations of Mumbo's words. "Blood is lives? What do you mean?"

"My father once told me that.” Mumbo muttered softly, a wistful mask slowly fell across his features and his eyes softened. It was as if he was existing on another plane of existence entirely as if he was somewhere that wasn’t beside Grian in the carriage. “I didn't understand it either, but humans believe the soul, the spirit to be in the mind, the heart and they are almost right but so wrong at the same time."

Grian's brow furrowed and as he opened his mouth to ask for Mumbo to elaborate, but before he could utter the words, the carriage came to a shuddering stop. 

The horses called out their neighing cries as their hooves pounded against the concrete below. The driver hooted and hollered from his place above as he slapped down on the roof of the cart. "We've arrived at Aberdeen, sirs." His Scottish lilt was obvious, so strong in fact that he had to take a moment to decipher what the man had said. 

While Grian wanted to scream to the man above that they were talking, that he was on the precipice of understanding something so important that it couldn't possibly wait. He saw the glint that shimmered in Mumbo's eyes, and a swell of peace fell across his chest, relieving the tension that had blossomed at his ribs. 

That light spoke of time, of patience and Grian heard the word whisper from between Mumbo's lips before he could get the chance to hear it aloud. 

"Soon." The word was silent but there, plain as day that Grian assumed even the driver had heard it. 

The blond gave a soft nod of his head before he watched as Mumbo slowly clambered from the carriage. He followed in the vampire's ungainly steps until the two of them stood on a cobblestone road only a foot beyond the door to the carriage.

Aberdeen was a dreary place, beautiful as it was, the clouds sucked away the light from the stars and moon. If it wasn't for the peaking street lamps or the glistening city lights beyond the smog, Grian was almost certain it would've been black as pitch. 

"My lords!"

The words echoed from beyond a low hanging plume of fog. Grian squinted out into the mist, there was a figure, a dark silhouette of a man. 

As he stepped forward, the clouds began to clear. He was a pale fellow who stood almost as tall as Mumbo. He donned a rag of a shirt and brace-clasped shorts. Grian’s nose twitched as a vampiric scent emanated from the man’s core and wafted from his creamy skin.

Atop the stranger’s head was a flat cap, a garment that Grian was certain had seen the shadow of night one hundred times over. 

"The fight across shores continues.” The man muttered by way of introduction. Grian’s eyes flicked across to Mumbo and an expression of recognition clouded the vampire’s features. Mumbo nodded to the stranger. 

“Yes, it is, Bulut.” Mumbo’s calm words hung between the three of them like an ornate chandelier. “You’re far from home. A vast difference in climate too.” 

The man, Bulut, gave an airy laugh as his throat husked on each roll. His eyes squinted to crescents as he gave a shake of his head. “Vastly different to Tourkia, no?” Bulut’s eyes settled on Grian then as the blond’s face scrunched with confusion. “It’s known today as Turkey for you English folk.” He clarified, a slight twinkle of amusement flickered in his eye. 

Grian nodded then with a soft nervous chuckle. Bulut winked at him before his gaze resettled on Mumbo. “New one?” He asked but was answered with a silent shrug of Mumbo’s shoulders. A gesture that could have meant anything. Bulut gave a swift nod before he motioned to a space behind him. “We have the best vessel we could muster, our augmentation spells have worked, as you can see and we bid you good luck on your journey."

Mumbo let his head dip in an ornamented fashion and as Grian's eyes flicked back to the man before them, an expectant look shimmered in his eyes. 

Grian gave a half-smile as he copied Mumbo's gesture and dipped his head in a silent nod of gratitude. 

"The coven thanks you." Mumbo hummed out before his eyes flicked to Grian. 

Something felt wrong about repeating Mumbo's line, he knew that the word ‘coven’ held no truth to the lycan kind, he knew he had to say something different. But what?

_I have already given you all you need to know._

The words that had baffled Grian not so long ago rang through his mind as clear as the light of the moon, it was as if Etho was standing just behind him, although he knew it was just Mumbo, Bulut and himself. 

Grian latched onto the words that rang through his head and it was as if a white light had encompassed his vision. A sea of images and memories shone through his brain as if he were a twizzling kaleidoscope, the scenes of a past life that had never belonged to him fluttered through him and it was then that the one memory flickered into existence. 

"And the packs thank you." 

Grian wasn't certain where in this strange past life the sentence had come from, but he knew, somehow that it fit this context. 

Grian gave a fleeting glance to Mumbo and as he did, a smirk twitched at his lips. The befuddlement that had befallen the man before him was almost hysterical but as quickly as that image appeared across Mumbo’s face, it was replaced by a calm and unwavering mask. 

"Thank you, my lords." The stranger muttered softly as he gave a bow and slowly backed away from them. Grian watched the man step to the side, Bulut lifted a hand and with a slow slanting motion, swiped his palm across the space before him. 

Grian's brow furrowed as he watched the man move. It seemed so odd and out of place, it was as if he was waving at someone in the distance. With a glance behind them, all Grian could spy was a long overarching reel of smog. 

A slow ambling movement peaked his attention and it was then that Grian saw it. 

His head twisted back to gaze at the sight before him and as he did, it was as if a fan had been placed only a metre behind him as the fog slowly started to part. 

A path formed as a strip of clear air slowly revealed itself as the clouds separated, a mist of grey highlighted the walls that stood either side of the mostly clear space ahead. 

"Wh-Wha--?" Grian stammered out the one-word question as his eyes flicked from Bulut to Mumbo and back again. 

The blond’s gaze narrowed on Mumbo as the moustached vampire gave a smirk and winked slyly to the lycan. 

"The immortal life affects us all differently. Some of us are bestowed with gifts."

* * *

The gifts that Mumbo had spoken of presented the ship with a canopy of the same smog that seemed to permeate around the Aberdeen docks. They were at least an hour away from the port and while the sight of the thick cloud had become rather tiring, Grian couldn’t help but lavish the sun as it shone through the filters that the mist created.

Being a lycan, he could still experience sunlight as a human would, but as a creature of darkness, he still couldn’t stand the solar brightness for too long. However, as he was hidden behind the veil of grey, the heat tickled at his skin and gently lavished him with soft kisses as it gently warmed him through the fog.

The ship wasn’t too large and was reminiscent to that of Olde England, where the merchant navy would take passengers to the new world of America. It still sported the sails and masts of yesteryear and although Grian was still rather baffled by the strange immortal infatuation with ancient and gothic artefacts, he could hardly complain as he stood, leant against the rails at the bow of the ship. 

There was something strange about his view, though. Something otherworldly. It was as if there was a digital overlay, like a watermark as pictures and images began to play out before his eyes. 

_Foreign words rang through his ears as rain pounded against his skin. His feet pounded against the floor as he sprinted through the city._

“-- you?”

The words grasped at Grian and tugged him away from the alternate reality. It was as if he’d been plucked from one place in the world and dropped, like the little yellow man from Google maps. 

His brows furrowed as the bright light of day shone and burned at his retinas. He gave a pained hiss as he shook the strange feel from his mind, trying to push away the memories that were not his own. 

When his sight returned, his eyelids fluttered as he refocused and allowed his body to acclimatise to the real world that still played out around him.

The ship still rocked gently with the waves, the wind still blew its careless whisper and the fog remained stationary like a translucent guard that blurred the dangerous rays of the sun. “Gri?” Mumbo’s voice prickled at his ears and Grian’s gaze flicked across to the man. 

He donned his usual suit sans the jacket, his shirt sleeves were also rolled up to his elbows. “Where did you go?” Mumbo asked as he leant forward and rested his arms against the rails. He gazed down to the sea below. 

“Mumbo, why are you outside? It’s daylight?” Grian asked, a panicked edge permeated his voice. The vampire gave a toothy grin and his canines unsheathed slightly, glistening in the light.

“One of the many advantages of travelling with an augmentor.” Mumbo hummed as he nodded towards the sailors who manned the vessel. 

“Augmentor?”

Mumbo nodded as he twisted around to face the blond. “Yeah, Bulut isn’t the only one who can alter the weather. Most vampires with the skill can create mists and fogs, it protects us from the sun, but allows us to enjoy her.” Mumbo gave a contented hum then as he gazed up to the glowing circlet in the sky. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Grian’s eyes flicked up to where Mumbo gesticulated and he squinted. Although the mist protected them from the glow, the glare of the sun was still there, still as strong as it was before the fogs. 

But as he stared up to the white sky, Grian realised then. Mumbo had been a vampire his entire life. He most certainly had never traversed outside the house during the day and that meant that he’d… Grian’s jaw clenched at the realisation. Mumbo had never seen the sun before. “Is this…?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question. His chest ached with the realisation that maybe Mumbo had never experienced its unadulterated beauty. 

Mumbo shook his head then, a knowing smile curled at his lips. “No. I’ve never seen the sun before.” He muttered and although he tried to punctuate his words with an apathy, an uncaring facade, Grian knew, he could hear the mournful tones that rippled through the vampire’s words and that sadness made his chest ache. 

Grian wanted to give Mumbo the sun. Wanted to give him the gentle oranges and yellow washes of sunrise, the soft red hues of sunset. He wanted to gift him a bright summer's day and a white winters’ glow. 

But before he could say any of this to the man, before he could even begin to try and attempt to convey his need, his desire, his want. Mumbo spoke. 

“What you said in the carriage.” The man’s voice was filled with trepidation as if he was hesitant to broach the subject as if the topic itself was something to be feared. “The blood memories.” He clarified. “Why were you asking?”

Grian gave a huff then, he wasn’t sure how to explain what was happening, what he’d been experiencing. But he had to, he had to find out why he was still seeing visions from Etho’s past, why he was experiencing a life that never belonged to him. 

“I… After drinking from Etho, I…” Grian paused as his head dropped. He scuffed his foot against the hardwood floor as he thought of the best way to phrase his answer. “I’ve been seeing things, hearing memories that aren’t mine. I know things and… I…”

“It’s like you’re seeing things from his perspective?” 

Grian’s eyes widened then because that was exactly what he was experiencing. He gave a swift nod. “Yeah, that’s it, exactly.” He hooted with a raised finger, as if pointing to the epiphany itself, as if it floated somewhere between them.

“It’s a gift.” 

Grian paused then. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened. “A gift?” Mumbo nodded, a small smile played at his lips.

“It’s illegal to drink from immortal blood because the immortal soul is so powerful.” Mumbo muttered softly. “If consumed at its purest form, or straight from the vein, it can kill you. It’s one of the only things that can.”

“It can kill us?” Grian’s words whispered from his mouth as a huff of disbelief fluttered from his lungs. 

Mumbo nodded, but his brows twitched as if Grian had it half right, half right but not completely. “But the person who is giving the blood has to concentrate on their most precious memories, where their soul was connected to the world around them. Something special, or horrible. It’s too strong for the immortal brain to process.” He shrugged then. “Not many of us can do it, focus our thoughts to one focal point.”

“That’s…” Grian paused then as he searched for the right word. “Intense.”

A huff of laughter bloomed from Mumbo as he gave a soft nod. “Yeah, most things are in this life.” He mused.

“How long will this _‘gift’_ last?” Grian asked, his brows furrowed with distaste at the thought of Etho giving pieces of his life to him as a gift. Something he never wanted, never asked for. 

“However long Etho wanted you to have them.” Mumbo hummed as he leant forward and against the rails once more. Grian followed suit, his arms folded at his chest as he rested them against the wooden bannister. Although, where his hand poked out from under his elbow, his fingers rested against Mumbo’s cool, pale skin. 

Grian’s eyes widened at the contact, his breath hitched and as he glanced down to where their bodies were connected, he almost ripped himself away. “I’m sorry.” He sputtered. 

Mumbo’s eyes narrowed on the blond as he shook his head. “No, I-I liked it.” As he said that a pink flush lit across his cheeks. Grian’s lips tugged in a soft grin as he leant back, although when their flesh touched once more, images from Etho erupted through his mind once again. 

_“No! Don’t hurt her! No!”_

_“Please stop!”_

_“It’s not her fault!”_

_Blood._

_Pain._

_Darkness._

_The light._

_Ash._

The screamed words resounded around Grian’s skull, as if it was him who was shouting, his voice hoarse. The unseen image that Etho saw, that made him scream in such a way tore at Grian’s heart. 

The woman who Etho had been screaming for, had been shackled from helping, held back. Was a vampire. A vampire. 

Grian’s breath hitched as his lungs tightened. Realisation connecting in his mind.

His chest stuttered as his breathing began to falter. It was as if there was an entire tonne of weight pressed against his ribs. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs ached with each passing second and he was afraid that he might pass out. 

“Grian?”

Mumbo’s voice was a distant echo. He knew that the vampire sounded worried, scared. But Grian couldn’t help, he couldn’t move. The sights that Etho had seen. The woman that Etho had once loved. The torment that he had once endured. It was too much.

“Grian, what’s wrong?”

Mumbo leant in close then. Grian could smell him so perfectly and while he wanted to savour the moment, enjoy it with all his might, he couldn’t. He couldn’t allow Mumbo to endure what that unnamed vampire had once felt. Could never allow Mumbo to be hurt like that. 

“Grian!” 

Mumbo’s brows were knitted together with determination, but Grian couldn’t speak. The image that had played out in his mind continued to repeat, over and over. The screams, the darkness and the light. 

“Grian, tell me what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t answer. 

“Grian, please.”

His lips were held tightly shut as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Grian, I’m sorry.” His ochrous irises settled on the vampire then as Mumbo lifted Grian’s arm to his lips. 

Grian’s eyes widened as he watched Mumbo open his mouth in what appeared to be slow motion. “Nnn---Nnn-NO!” He screamed out finally, but it was too late. Mumbo’s fangs dug into his flesh. 

There was a strange tugging on his skin before Mumbo’s canines slotted into place and it was then, as Mumbo began to suck out each memory from Grian’s mind, that he truly realised what Mumbo was doing. 

The image of Etho, trapped and encased by chains and shackles, his eyes wide as he watched the love of his life tied helplessly to a post awaiting her demise. Awaiting her inevitable end. 

The ceiling began to open and as it did, the sunlight slowly shimmered down in an almost angelic feat. The heat began to sizzle at her flesh as she burned alive. Her skin bubbled and blistered, blood trailed down from her bursting sores and as she slowly cooked under the unwavering gaze of the sun above, she began to fade to an ashen statue.

But that wasn’t the only memory that was sucked from his mind. It was as if as soon as Mumbo’s teeth cut through Grian’s skin, his own memories began to play out like an old family videotape. 

Ren’s warnings, his begging, Grian’s infatuations with the legends of Chagford. The time he spent in the Jumboline manor, the time he spent with Drake. His first transformation and finally, the first time he and Mumbo had shared a room. 

That morning, that fateful morning as Grian woke up to sordid thoughts and feelings, stirrings in places that he should never have felt for a friend, how he’d fled to the bathroom, trying in vain to wash away the sultry images and as he exited the washroom, all he could see was Mumbo, half-naked and entirely delicious. 

Mumbo saw it all. 

Plain as the world before them, now. 

Every single thought. Every single memory. Every single action.

Mumbo’s eyes widened as he pulled away from the bite. He gasped for air as he stumbled back and grasped the bannister for support. Grian couldn’t move as the terror began to grip at his chest. 

He knew now that Mumbo had seen every thought that had crossed his mind. He’d been exposed to the very demons that Grian had been trying to keep him from, knew how Grian felt about him, about them. 

He stood still as if he were encased in a casket of concrete. He knew what Mumbo had just bore witness to. Grian saw every single memory flash across his mind before it was sucked from his arm and consumed by the vampire before him. 

Mumbo knew everything now. 

“I… I’m sorry I -” But before he could complete his apology something blocked his mouth. Something wet and iron flavoured. Something soft and velvety. A tongue slowly lapped along the seam of Grian’s lips, begging for entry. 

Mumbo was kissing him. 

Mumbo. Was. Kissing. Him.

Grian’s hands flew up to hold the man against him as he leant into the kiss. His jaw slackened as he relaxed and allowed the tongue to delve into his mouth, allowed it to explore, to categorise every taste and feel that he had to offer. 

It was divine. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. All at once, Grian couldn’t help but kiss back, he couldn’t help but push back deeper, stronger, needier.

His tongue scraped along Mumbo’s fang and it’s sharp tip sliced at the supple flesh. His brows drew closer as a soft mewl of pleasure rustled from his throat. The sound seemed to awaken them both from their lusty trances for they pulled away, panting. 

“I…” Grian muttered out, not knowing how to speak, what to say. All he knew was what Etho’s harrowing experience could still happen to them. He knew of the blood feud, knew it was dangerous. But by god, he had tasted Mumbo and now he could never forget that taste. How could anyone expect him to continue living without doing that again?

“We…” Grian’s voice broke out in soft stuttered words, his breath faltered on each syllable and he could hardly control his racing mind.

“I know.” Mumbo muttered back, equally as breathless. 

“This is dangerous.” Grian muttered, his eyes widened as he emphasised his point, silently gesturing to the memory he’d shared with Etho, hoping that Mumbo would be the smarter of the two and step back from the precipice of which they were both in danger of tumbling from. 

“I know.” Mumbo nodded, his cheeks ruddy with colour that must have been impossible for a vampire to show, but as pale as he should have been, Mumbo’s face pinkened prettily beneath Grian’s gaze. “I… I had to. I know it’s… But I… I want to do it again.”

Seeing Mumbo lost for words, stuttering and quiet, Grian couldn’t help the want to smother the man with featherlight kisses, couldn’t keep the need at bay. He gave a soft smile as he nodded in response. “I know.”

Deep beneath his ragged exterior, hidden away within his heart, the wolf howled within its casing. Mumbo’s beautiful shyness was the drug, the cocaine that the animal needed, that one dose was enough for Grian to be addicted. Now neither he nor the beast within could ever hope to live without this. Without him. 

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! Thank you all so much for reading!
> 
> I hope it was enjoyable and if you did, indeed, enjoy it, please consider leaving kudos and a comment below to let me know your thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> So...? How was it?
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the story that's about to unfold. I wonder if anyone has any questions or theories on what might be in store for our lovable duo? 
> 
> Also, I kind of chucked you all in at the deep end with this story, I did have a nice build-up for the first chapter, but I decided against it, I thought just having you all slung into the action would be more entertaining for you :D Besides, you all know me as a writer and I'm sure you're all familiar with the stuff that I post and what might be in store for you all :D
> 
> Anyway, as usual, if you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving kudos and a comment to let me know your thoughts :D


End file.
